Prelude
by Duncan Johnson
Summary: Sequel to Finale. Dawn is having visions and Helena is back from the dead, but how long will the gang last without Buffy?
1. Buffy

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Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Prelude

By Duncan Johnson

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This story is a sequel to Finale.

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1. Buffy

It was as good a night as any to kill a sister.

Angel grunted as he scooped up another clod of earth with the spade. Giles had offered to help, but Angel had insisted on doing the digging alone. Maybe he was feeling guilty about not being here for her. He shouldn't. I had been here and I hadn't been able to stop it. I hadn't even tried.

The business end of the spade struck something solid.

'I guess we've found it,' Angel said.

Xander pushed his wheelchair forward for a closer look. Anya took an involuntary step forward, following him, but she kept a tight grip on Trix's hand. Halfrek put a steadying hand on Xander's chair then glanced back at Anya. Anya managed a weak smile, then stepped back into Trix's shadow.

Giles put a hand on my shoulder.

'You don't have to do this, you know,' he said. 'Let me. She was my Slayer. That makes her my responsibility.'

I ignored him and walked cautiously to the edge of the hole, my sneakers threatening to slip out from under me on the wet grass.

'I'll do it,' Angel said, holding out a large hand for the stake. 'I owe her that much.'

I shook my head.

'She wasn't your sister,' I replied.

Angel glared at me angrily. I couldn't believe we were fighting over this. I almost handed over the stake, but I didn't. If this had to be done then I was the one who was going to do it.

'Open it up,' I said.

Angel lifted the lid of the coffin.

I'd like to say that she looked as if she was sleeping, but I'd seen Buffy asleep and she was never as calm and untroubled as this. It was obvious just by looking at her that she wasn't going to wake up.

I lowered myself into the hole.

'She looks so peaceful,' I whispered.

'They all do,' Angel said. 'It can be deceptive.'

'You're a well of comfort,' I complained.

I raised the stake. My hand was shaking.

Angel put his hand over mine.

'Let me,' he said. 'It's got nothing to do with who has more right here. I just don't want to see you hurt anymore. It's not what Buffy would want.'

I tried to smile at him, but the muscles in my face didn't want to co-operate.

'Thanks,' I said, 'but this is something I have to do. I can't explain it, but that's just the way it is.'

'I understand,' Angel replied. 'I'll be just over there if you need me.'

Then he climbed out of the pit.

The rest of the gang were only a few feet away, but I still felt alone down there with Buffy. With what had been Buffy. I had to keep reminding myself of the difference otherwise I would never be able to go through with this. Buffy was gone. If we were lucky then all that was left was her body. And if we were unlucky? Well, that was why we had dug up her grave in the middle of the night.

I placed the stake, point down, against her chest. I knew I didn't have the strength to force it through her rib cage on my own. That's why I'd brought the mallet. 

'I'm sorry, Buffy,' I said, swinging the mallet.

The stake juddered in my hand as it pierced her flesh. There was no blood. The embalmer had seen to that.

I wasn't sorry at all. Not really. I knew that this was what Buffy would have wanted. Since becoming a Slayer, Buffy had had one overriding fear - that she would end her days as a vampire. I wasn't about to let that happen.

I swung the mallet again.

* * *

It had only been hours since the funeral. Giles had made all the arrangements. I wouldn't have known how.

Giles had flown over as soon as he heard what had happened. I think Anya had called him, but I hadn't asked. He had volunteered to take responsibility for me until Social Services came up with a more permanent solution. Apparently, they had found Hank Summers in Spain with yet another secretary. He was engaged to this one. Of all the shameless, despicable things he could have done…I was glad Mom wasn't around to see it.

It seems odd to call him Hank. Usually I don't think about him at all and, while he may be my biological father, he lost the right to be Dad some time ago. Giles had suggested we postpone the funeral until Hank got back. I refused. I had been waiting six years for him to come back. That was plenty long enough.

* * *

I swung the mallet again. I could hear the splintering of bone as I forced my way through her ribcage.

* * *

There were more people at the funeral than I had expected.

First, there were the people I'd invited. Giles, obviously. Xander and Anya. Trix, Clem and Halfrek. I had phoned Angel. I'd wanted to speak to him in person, but there just wasn't time. He, Wesley and Cordelia drove down from L.A. the same night. I'd also tried getting in touch with Riley and Sam. They couldn't make the funeral - they didn't say why and I knew better than to ask - but they sent their condolences. No one knew where Oz had gone.

Then there were those who had asked to come. Janice, Drew and Chrissie weren't sure that they would be welcome. They hadn't really been part of the inner circle before. But they owed Buffy their lives and they wanted to be there for me, if I'd have them. I made a point of taking them round and introducing them to the rest of the gang. No more secrets, right? Drew seemed less than taken with Angel, but I don't know how much of that was because he's a vampire and how much because Chrissie was all over him.

The night before the funeral, Giles and I were in the kitchen going over the catering arrangements. I was just agreeing with everything he suggested, but he seemed to think it was important that I was involved. Then there was a knock on the door. Giles shrugged. He wasn't expecting anybody anymore than I was. When I opened the door, I didn't even try to keep the surprise off my face.

Sheila and Ira Rosenberg were standing on the doorstep.

'Hello,' I said cautiously. I still remembered Mr Rosenberg's last visit to the house. 'Can I help you?'

'We came to offer our condolences,' Mrs Rosenberg said.

'The last time I saw Buffy I was…less than friendly,' Mr Rosenberg continued. 'That was unforgivable.'

'It was understandable,' I told him, 'given the circumstances.'

'The point is, Buffy was a good friend to our daughter,' Mr Rosenberg explained, 'and I never got a chance to tell her how much I…we appreciated that.'

'I'm sure she knew,' I promised him. I wasn't sure at all, but it seemed like the right thing to say in the circumstances.

'There was something else,' Mrs Rosenberg said. 'Would you mind if we came to the funeral?'

I was still giving out surprise-face.

'We just want to pay our respects,' she explained hastily, 'and…well…'

'Well?' I prompted gently.

'We never got to have a funeral for Willow,' Mr Rosenberg explained.

I didn't know how to respond to that, but fortunately Giles was there to save me.

'Would you like to come inside?' he said. 'I'm just making tea.'

We stayed up late talking about Willow and Buffy, sharing stories (most of which should definitely remain private). I had to skate around the issue of Buffy's slaying or Willow's witchery, but the Rosenbergs didn't pry. I got the impression that they knew that there was a part of their daughter's life that was always going to be hidden from them, but that they were okay about it.

By the end of the evening we were already discussing when I would go and have dinner with them. Suffice to say that they were more than welcome at the funeral.

And finally there were the gatecrashers, something of a new concept for a funeral. Some of the faces I recognised from school, but most were strangers. They were all here for the same reason, though. At one time or another, Buffy had saved all their lives and they felt compelled to pay their respects. I wasn't about to turn them away.

With one exception.

Jonathan was lurking near the back of the hall. He looked nervous. Guilty. And well he might. 

Excusing myself from the others, I crossed over to him.

'What are you doing here?' I demanded, keeping my voice low so as not to attract attention.

'She saved my life too,' he pointed out defensively. 'I've as much right to be here as the rest of them.'

'They didn't kill her,' I shot back. Maybe it was harsh, but that was how I was feeling. You try losing a sister and see how sympathetic you become.

'I didn't…' Jonathan began, but, in his defence, he didn't finish the sentence. 'She wanted me to do it.'

'You could have said no,' I replied. 'You _should_ have said no.'

'It wasn't that simple,' he protested.

'Wasn't it?' I persisted. 'You could have stopped her, but instead you let her throw her life away.'

I was shouting now and I didn't care who overheard. But who was I most angry at, Jonathan or myself. I had been all ready to fight with Buffy at the Bronze, to die at her side if it came to it, but then I'd turned my back on her and let her go into the darkness alone. It was what she had wanted, a small voice at the back of my head insisted, but wasn't that the same argument Jonathan had used?

'I wanted to stop her,' Jonathan said softly. 'Really I did, but…'

'I don't want to hear it,' I snapped at him. 'Just get out of my sight.'

* * *

The stake slid easily through the softer tissue beneath her ribs. I stepped back, leaving the stake where it was.

'Angel,' I called, 'is that enough?'

Angel crouched down at the edge of the hole.

'That'll be fine,' he assured me. 'If she wakes up a vampire, she'll dust straightaway now. We could wait…'

'Bury her,' I said, climbing out of the pit. 'I never want to know.'

* * *

'I feel so useless,' Xander said as I sat down on the grass next to his chair.

'You're not useless, Xander,' I said. 'It's great just that you're here. And you'll be back on your feet in no time, you'll see.'

'That's not what I meant,' Xander explained. 'I knew what she was planning. She told me, when I was in hospital. She told me everything, but I couldn't even lift a finger to stop her. I was supposed to be her friend.'

'There was nothing you could have done,' I told him.

'But it's not the first time,' he continued. 'I couldn't save Willow either. I probably even talked her into killing herself. That's the one thing I'm supposed to be good at, wordplay, but I managed to talk my best friend to death. And then there's Tara. Warren was as close to me when he shot her as you are now. I could have grabbed him. He wasn't super-strong anymore. I could have wrestled that gun off him easy. But I didn't, did I? I just froze and now three of my friends are dead. I guess I just don't have what it takes to be a hero.'

'That's so not true,' I insisted, but I was only half-listening to Xander. There was something in the distance that had caught my eye. 

I got to my feet. I could see a light, dancing in the distance.

'Don't go away,' I said.

'Yeah, because it's real easy to roll about in this grass,' Xander complained, but I was already walking away.

Bizarre as it may sound, there was something familiar about that light and I was intent on finding out what it was. I wasn't sensing anything threatening from it. If anything, it seemed warm and welcoming.

I glanced back. I had wandered further from the others than I had intended. They were still busily filling in the hole and hadn't noticed I had gone. The cautious part of me (yes, it does exist) urged me to go back and join them, but my curiosity won out and I hurried off in pursuit of the mysterious light.

I blinked.

The light was growing, taking on a definite shape. The brightness was fading and I could see other colours within the bluish glow. The fairy light was resolving into a figure, a figure I recognised.

'Tara?' I said.

It couldn't be. I was seeing things. Xander's ramblings had brought her to mind, that was all.

But I was looking at her. Not just someone who looked like her, but _her_ her.

I reached for her, but my hand passed through her flesh like she wasn't there. Either I was hallucinating or…

'Dawn, look out,' Angel shouted.

The vampire bowled into me. Angel's warning had given me a chance to roll with the impact, but I still ended up flat on my back.

'Not tonight,' I complained through gritted teeth. 'Don't you people have any shame.'

It's telling about my lifestyle that I had a stake ready and waiting in my boot.

The others had already dived into action. Angel and Giles led the charge. Angel had produced a stake from each sleeve of his leather duster and hurled them with devastating accuracy into the approaching vampires. Giles darted forward, tripping an oncoming vamp and embedding a stake in his chest. His time in England hadn't dulled his reflexes any.

Trix had launched himself into the fray and was tearing at the vampires with his razor-sharp teeth. He couldn't kill them like that, but he could slow them down enough for Anya to shove a stake through their backs.

Even Xander was having a go. He had brought a crossbow with him and was patiently picking off vampires like ducks in a barrel. And if a vampire decided to try and take him out? Well, Halfrek was beside him, ready to take them on. There was a gleam in her eye and I got the impression that she was actually enjoying herself. 

The same could be said for Angel, who had shifted to his game-face before engaging the oncoming vampires with his bare hands.

I rolled to one side to avoid the vampire towering over me. My jacket rode up under my arms as I dodged, restricting my movement, so I shucked it off. Still on my back, I scrambled backwards like a crab, praying for a free moment to climb back to my feet, but the vampire stalked me relentlessly.

'What is it with vampires and cemeteries?' I asked, panting for breath. 'Feeling homesick?'

'Huh?' the vampire responded. I knew what he meant. There's never a good quip around when you need one.

I dived forward, rolling between his legs and springing up behind him. The move caught him completely by surprise, which was a plus, but had brought me face to face with another vamp, which wasn't.

'You wouldn't happen to be a vegetarian by any chance?' I inquired. Well, it was an improvement. Must be the stress.

The vampire just laughed. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me so close to him the I could smell his leather jacket and…

'Eww, breath mint,' I complained.

'Hey!' the vampire said, offended. Yeah, like he was the one suffering.

Well, maybe he was.

A crossbow bolt struck him in the back. The vampire gasped, cast his eyes skywards and crumbled before my eyes.

I could hear the other vampire coming up behind me so I caught the crossbow bolt as it fell, no longer supported by leather-clad vampire, spun on my heel and embedded the bolt deep into the other vampire's chest.

As he disintegrated, I turned to Xander and gave him a thumbs-up.

'Teamwork!' I shouted at him, but his attention was already elsewhere.

My attention could have been better focussed too. In the heat of the battle I'd lost sight of Tara. She had been right in front of me, but now there was nothing to show she had even been there at all.

The tide of battle was definitely turning. Giles and Angel were fighting back-to-back and the vampires were becoming increasingly reluctant to approach the pair, only doing so to escape Trix's snapping jaws. Xander held his crossbow cocked and ready, but there were fewer and fewer targets for him to shoot.

That didn't mean we were out of the woods yet, though. A pair of female vamps, dressed in ripped jeans and T-shirts emblazoned with the name of some rock group or other, had decided that I presented the most tempting target. They moved to flank me and I drew my stake from my boot.

I couldn't keep my eyes on both of them at once. I had to keep turning my back on one or the other and I knew it was only a matter of time before the pair took advantage of that fact. I really had only one option.

I rushed one of them.

She brought up an arm to block me, but Buffy had taught me to expect that and I was already ducking out of the way. Unfortunately, the vampire was fast. She kicked my ankles. It wasn't enough to trip me, but it did make me stumble and that gave the vampire enough time to dodge my stake.

The other vampire was approaching rapidly. I didn't have a lot of time. I turned, thrusting the stake blindly. 

It was a mistake. 

The first vamp grabbed my wrist and squeezed. I had to bite my bottom lip so as not to cry out, but I managed to keep hold of my stake. Something else Buffy had taught me. She grasped a handful of my shirt in her free hand and pulled me close.

This time the mistake was hers.

My cross, which I had been wearing beneath my clothes, spilled out in front of my shirt. The vampire recoiled and I pulled my wrist free and lunged again with the stake. This time I struck my target and the vampire exploded in front of me.

The other vampire was still very much active, however.

Her claw-like hand clamped around my throat and she lifted me up into the air. I could smell burning where my cross touched her flesh and the vampire growled something feral. With her free hand she snapped the chain around my neck and the cross fell for the ground.

'Did you know that the young ones taste sweeter?' the vampire whispered in my ear.

'Dawn!' Giles shouted, but his voice sounded faint and far away. Too far away.

The vampire bared her fangs.

'This won't hurt,' she said. 'Much.'

I wondered if Buffy would be waiting for me.

Then the vampire screamed.

She and I both looked down.

There was a coffee-coloured hand protruding from the vampire's chest. It was holding her heart. I had expected it to be warm and fat and red. Maybe even still beating. But it was the heart of a corpse and it was shrivelled and black and very, very dead.

The hand clenched into a fist and crushed the heart. The vampire burst, showering green dust in all directions. With the hand that had been holding me up now blowing in the wind, I fell to earth, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.

My rescuer stood over me. She was shivering. She held her hand in front of her face and looked at it as if she didn't know what it was.

Angel hurried over and draped his coat over the girl's shoulders. She pulled it tight about her, like a comforter.

'Who are you?' he asked. 'How did you get out here?'

Don't ask me how _I_ am, I mentally complained. I sat up. I was no longer gasping for breath and I could now take a good look at the woman who had saved my life. 

I couldn't believe my eyes.

'What's your name?' Angel persisted.

'Helena?' I said.


	2. Wesley

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2. Wesley

We took Helena back to my house to get cleaned up. I took her upstairs to the bathroom and, surprisingly, Cordelia came with to lend a hand. She had stayed behind while the rest of us had gone to the cemetery. I couldn't say as I blamed her.

We helped Helena into the shower and washed the dirt and muck and blood off of her. Strangely, none of the blood was hers. Everyone else involved in the fight had picked up some wound or other. I had a gash in my forehead. Cordelia had offered to look at it for me, but Helena was my priority at the moment. She still hadn't said a word since we met her.

I shut off the shower and Helena sat in the bathtub, shivering.

'Could you leave us alone for a bit?' I asked Cordy.

'You sure?' she asked. 

I nodded.

Cordelia scooped up Helena's clothes. 

'I'll go and stick these in the machine,' she said.

Helena raised her left hand to her mouth. I'd seen her bite her nails in class. It was a nervous habit.

I reached out and took her hand in both of mine.

'You don't have to be afraid,' I promised her.

As I held her hand, I noticed another odd thing to add to tonight's ever-growing catalogue. All the nails on the hand were perfect and completely unchewed. I looked up at Helena's face and, for a brief moment, her eyes flashed yellow, like a cat's. Then they were normal again. Maybe I had imagined it, but I didn't think so.

'What happened?' I asked.

She remained silent.

'You can tell me,' I said. 'It's me…Dawn. I'm your friend, remember?'

Okay, maybe that was exaggerating things a bit, but I felt it was worth a try. In any event, it didn't convince her to open up.

There was a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. I got up and handed it to Helena.

'Come on,' I said. 'Let's go get you something to eat.'

* * *

'I could always stay,' Giles offered.

It was much later- nearly dawn in fact - and we were sitting in the kitchen drinking cocoa. (Yes, every so often Giles does drink something other than tea.) Once Helena's clothes had been washed and dried, Angel drove her home. I went along for the ride, partly to navigate, partly to hold Helena's hand. She was jittery. She was jumping at every noise, every shadow. She didn't seem at all like the girl that had disembowelled a vampire just hours earlier.

Her father met us at the door, thanked us curtly and practically dragged Helena inside. Then he slammed the door on us.

I took an instant dislike to him.

I wanted to force my way inside, but Angel stopped me.

'If she wanted our help she would have asked for it,' he told me.

'Would she?' I asked.

'Not everyone we meet is a monster,' he continued. 'I know it seems that way sometimes, but you can't let that blind you.'

Reluctantly, I let him lead me back to the car and we drove back home in silence. It was Giles who explained Angel's behaviour to me later. If I had got into trouble, he wouldn't have been able to come inside after me. What with all we had been through lately, I guess I'd forgotten that little fact about vampires.

After that, everyone started to drift off home. Everyone that is except the Angel Investigations crowd. It was too close to daylight for them to drive back to L.A. now, so they were having to stay the night. And the next day, thinking about it. I wondered how Hank would react to that when he arrived.

Anyway, Angel, Giles and I stayed up in the kitchen chatting. Angel opted out of the cocoa.

'Something strange is obviously going on,' Giles continued. We had to keep our voices low because Wesley and Cordelia were asleep upstairs. 'That girl - Helena, did you say her name was? - obviously has supernatural gifts. At least let me help you investigate it.'

I shook my head.

'We'll manage,' I told him.

Giles frowned, but didn't say anything. Maybe he should have. Since he had relocated back to England, our idea of 'managing' had resulted in the deaths of two of my best friends and my sister.

'You're going through a difficult time at the moment,' Giles persisted, 'what with Buffy's…'

He trailed off and began to polish his glasses furiously. He wasn't looking at me. He couldn't say the word, couldn't talk about Buffy's death. I knew that he cared for her, but I never knew how much.

'It's okay,' I said, putting a hand on his arm.

'Yes, well,' Giles muttered, replacing his glasses on his nose. 'Anyway, there's always the matter of your father. With all these…upheavals you might benefit from a familiar presence.'

'I appreciate it, I really do,' I said, 'but you've got a life back in England now. Plus, this whole thing with Hank, that's something I'm going to have to deal with myself whether you're here or not.'

'I just don't like the idea of leaving you on your own at a time like this,' Giles shot back.

'I'm hardly alone,' I pointed out. 'I've got Xander and Anya and Trix and Clem. Heck, even Hank's coming back from Spain to keep an eye on me. I don't need another babysitter, okay.'

'I didn't mean it like that,' Giles insisted. 'It's just…'

He removed his glasses with one hand and ran the other through his hair.

'Just what?' I asked.

'I wasn't there for your sister, for Buffy,' he explained.

'Do you really think you could have made a difference?' I asked. 'She did what she felt she had to do. That's what she always did. And before she died she told me to tell you, well, she hoped that she had made you proud.'

That she did,' he murmured. 'That she did.'

Was that a tear in his eye or just a trick of the light?

'Listen, maybe I can suggest a compromise,' Angel said. He had been standing so quietly that we had almost forgotten he was there.

'A compromise?' Giles asked.

'Yes,' Angel agreed. 'I reckon I can spare Wesley for a while. He could stay down here and keep an eye on things.'

I must have frowned or something because he added hurriedly, 'Not as a babysitter or anything. He'll be here strictly to investigate this girl and whatever's going on there. Is that okay with you?'

'Hm. For all his faults, Wesley's a good man,' Giles said. 'You could do worse, I suppose. And I'll feel a lot better knowing that you have some degree of adult supervision.'

'You are so on the next plane out of here,' I told him.

'Gladly, just as long as I know you're safe,' he replied. 'Wesley will keep a good eye on things.'

'Don't you think we should ask him first?' I said.

'I'm sure he'll agree to it,' Angel said.

* * *

'You want me to _what_?' Wesley demanded. 'I'm sorry Angel, Rupert, but I really don't think this is a good idea.'

The kitchen was crowded with the five of us in there. Cordelia and I were the only ones siting at the table, however. We both nursed glasses of orange juice, but I had a stack of pancakes in front of me as well. I was happily squirting syrup over the pile while watching Cordelia out of the corner of my eye and wondering if she was even remotely jealous.

The pancakes had been cooked by Giles and he was busily whipping up another batch.

Wesley and Angel were arguing.

'Giles and I agree that someone should be on hand to keep an eye on things,' Angel said.

'So you don't trust Dawn to look after things on her own,' Wesley accused him. 'What that girl needs is a chance to spread her own wings. The last thing she needs is someone looking over her shoulder the whole time.'

You know, I was really warming to Wesley.

'There's a mystery here, Wes,' Angel said. 'Someone needs to look into it.'

'And I say, let Dawn have a shot,' Wesley retorted. 'What do you or I or Rupert know about teenage girls. Dawn's far more likely to get to the bottom of this than we are.'

'Dawn doesn't have our experience,' Giles said. 'I agree with you that Dawn is much more likely to get Helena to open up than you are, but she'll need you guidance to interpret whatever she may find.'

'And Angel Investigations is only a phone call away,' Wesley replied.

'That doesn't even come close to being on the scene,' Giles responded. 'You know that.'

'Have you any idea how hard I've worked to get where I am?' Wesley asked. 'I finally feel like I've achieved something, found my niche in life and you expect me to throw all that away?'

'Thank of it more as putting it on hold,' Angel said. His eyes narrowed. 'You owe me, Wesley, the kind of debt you aren't likely to repay in a hurry. You do this for me and it evens the score between us. Totally.'

Wesley was wavering, but he still wasn't convinced. 

'I hate to admit it,' I said, 'but they're right. I could use the help.'

'Very well then,' Wesley said. 'But I remain part of Angel Investigations. Consider it an extended field assignment.'

'Absolutely,' Angel said.

'And as and when Dawn proves herself capable of handling matters without me I get to return to the office.'

'Deal.'

Wesley nodded thoughtfully, the turned to face me.

'I'll need to return to Los Angeles to pick up some things and put my affairs in order. Plus there's a small matter of a gambling debt.'

'How much do you owe?' Giles asked.

'They owe me, actually,' Wesley replied with a grin. 'Someone should really teach these Americans the finer points of darts. But, as I was saying, I'll be away for a few days. Will you be all right in the meantime?'

'I'll be fine,' I promised. 'What could possibly go wrong?'

'What indeed?' Wesley said sceptically.

'Thanks for doing this,' I said. 'I mean, we hardly know each other, but…'

'Hardly know each other, rubbish,' Wesley replied. 'Besides, Angel's right. I do have one or two things to atone for.'

'Well, now that that's settled,' Giles said, shovelling pancakes on to plates, 'I suggest you all eat up or we'll be late meeting Dawn's father at the airport.'

* * *

Hank looked just as I remembered him. Okay, so maybe he was a little more tanned, but otherwise just as I remembered him.

And wasn't that a punch in the stomach.

See, the thing is that he looked like my Dad. I'd spent years building up this image of the guy who had walked out on us. The guy who had abandoned his own family, had an affair with his secretary and then run off to Spain with someone completely different. This was the guy who didn't even come to his wife's funeral, let alone help his daughters deal with the aftermath. And I had a very clear picture of that guy.

Thing was, when I looked at Hank, that wasn't what I saw. What I saw was the man who used to fling me over his shoulder and take me for walks. The man who'd play Frisbee with me in the parks and share candyfloss when we visited the fun fair. If my memory was to be believed, I _liked_ this guy.

I did not like the woman with him.

This was Lydia, Hank's fiancee, a tall, curvy brunette. She looked down her nose at me like I was something she had scraped off her designer boots. I felt much the same way about her. Well, except for the designer boots part. Money was still a bit tight around her. But hey, if Hank had that much money to splash around, maybe we could make this bearable after all.

Hiya, sweetheart,' Hank said. 'Long time no see.'

'No kidding,' I muttered.

Hank wrapped his arms around me. I didn't return the embrace and Hank got the hint and let go.

'Who are you're friends?' he asked.

Angel had had to stay behind, but Wesley and Cordelia had decided to come with Giles and me.

'Rupert Giles,' Giles said, offering his hand.

'Hey, I remember you,' hank said, returning the handshake warmly. 'You're the school librarian, aren't you?'

'Former librarian,' Giles admitted. 'Now I'm just a friend of the family.'

'Well any friend of Dawn's is a friend of mine,' Hank said magnanimously. 'And that goes double for you,' he added, turning to Cordelia. 'Who might you be?'

Hank was oblivious to the daggers Lydia was staring into his back. If it annoyed the fiancee then I was all for Hank's flirting with Cordelia. Then I had visions of Cordy as my stepmom and I went right off the idea.

'I'm Cordelia Chase,' Cordelia said. 'I'm an actress.'

Wesley rolled his eyes, but I think I was the only one who noticed.

'You know, I was just thinking you must be,' Hank told her. Now I was joining in the eye rolling.

'And I'm Wesley Wyndham-Price,' Wesley said, interposing himself between Hank and Cordelia.

'Pleased to meet you,' Hanks said. 'And what do you do, My Wyndham-Price.'

'Oh, he's Dawn's personal tutor,' Cordelia explained before Wesley could open his mouth.

'I am?' Wesley asked, then added more forcefully, 'I mean, yes, I am.'

'Why does my daughter need a personal tutor?' Hank asked suspiciously.

'Well, it's not that Dawn isn't bright…' Wesley began. Nice of him to notice.

'That said, after her mother…passed away, her grades started slipping at school,' Cordelia added. 'Buffy hired Wesley to give her some extra tuition after school.'

'Buffy never struck me as the pro-education type,' Hank confessed. 'Didn't I hear she dropped out of college?'

'That was entirely due to financial pressures following her mother's death,' Giles insisted.

'And that's probably why she was so keen to help Dawn's education,' Cordelia continued. 'She wanted her to have all the opportunities she'd missed out on.'

'I suppose,' Hank admitted.

'Am I an actress or am I an actress?' Cordelia whispered to me.

'I take it Buffy paid you for this extra tuition?' Hank said.

'Well, naturally,' Wesley replied.

'And you expect me to continue to employ you?'

'Well, that's entirely your decision, sir,' Wesley replied. 'However, I would like to point out that we are talking about your daughter's education.'

Hank thought about this.

'In that case, Mr Wyndham-Price,' Hank said, 'I guess we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other.'

'Please,' Wesley said, shaking Hank's hand, 'call me Wesley.'

* * *

I had been given the day off school in order to meet Hank. I had, however, volunteered to go in later in order to attend the play rehearsal. We were performing the last Friday before Christmas and that no longer seemed such a long time away. I had briefly considered quitting the production. I mean, I had enough problems right now. But, if I quit at this late stage, who were they going to get to replace me? Plus, Buffy had been so proud of me when I'd got the part. I couldn't let her down, could I?

Before the rehearsal, though, I'd gone to visit Clem. He had started to redecorate the crypt. I still thought of it as Spike's crypt, but the soft furnishings were definitely not Spike.

'Are you sure that's such a good idea?' Clem was saying. 'It could be dangerous.'

'It's not like I'm going looking for danger,' I pointed out. 'Janice and Chrissie want to be a part of this whole supernatural world and if I don't let them in they'll just go looking for it themselves. Now that _would_ be dangerous.'

'Can't argue with you there,' Clem said. 'Cheesy thing?'

'Thanks.' I took a handful from the bag. 'The way I see it, I agree to take them out on patrol, steer them well clear of anything remotely interesting, they get bored and this whole thing will go away.'

'You really think that's going to happen?'

'I can dream, can't I?' I said. 

'And what does Wesley think about this?' Clem asked.

'I, um, haven't asked him,' I admitted. 'Hey, he was the one that said I needed - what was it - a chance to spread my wings.'

'Just be sure you don't get them clipped,' Clem said.

* * *

Hank was less than happy about me going out that night. That was his problem. Lydia just looked relieved to be rid of me. 

We'd agreed to meet outside Weatherley Park. I was the last one to arrive.

'Hey,' Janice called, waving at me. She was wearing a leather jacket over her dark blue sweater and jeans and had pulled her brown hair back in a ponytail. Chrissie was in her usual black and…

'What on earth are you carrying?' I demanded.

'I just wanted to be prepared,' she replied.

Hanging from right shoulder to left hip she had what appeared to be some kind of ammunition belt (think Rambo), but instead of cartridges it was packed full of home-made stakes. I wondered how much time she had spent whittling them. There was a baseball bat across her back, tied in place with a length of blue washing-line. And she was wearing goggles, of the big, clunky, school science-lab type.

'Can I just say,' I began, 'that I am completely without speech here. I completely and totally have no response to this.'

'Have you any idea how long I have been looking forward to this?' Chrissie asked. 'This is a chance for some serious payback.'

'Heaven help us all,' Drew sighed.

'Drew,' I said, 'I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you didn't want any part of this.'

'I don't,' Drew replied, 'but someone has to make sure Chrissie doesn't get hurt and I don't trust you to do it.'

So it was going to be like that, was it?

'Well, if the gangs all here,' I announced, 'let's get patrolling.'

Two hours later, we all had sore feet, but we hadn't found a single vampire. Shame.

'Don't you think we should, you know, check the cemeteries?' Janice asked. 'Seems to me that's be a good place to find the walking dead.'

'I'm game,' Chrissie added.

'Boy, have you got a lot to learn,' I said quickly. 'Would you want to hang around dead people if you didn't have to. No self-respecting unliving creature is going to live in a crypt.'

'They're not?' Janice asked. 'But I thought…'

'No, they'll live just like you and me and at night they'll be out on the town, in the clubs, the cinemas and what have you.'

'So you've actually brought us to the centre of town because this is where we're most likely to find vampires,' Drew deduced.

'Yep,' I agreed.

'Funny, looked to me as if you'd been trying to avoid them,' he said.

'I thought that was what you wanted,' I retorted.

'Sure it is,' he replied. 'I just didn't know you felt the same way.'

'What was that?' Chrissie asked.

'What was what?' I replied.

'Over there. Sounded like broken glass.'

'Let's go and investigate,' Janice suggested and the two girls were off and running before I could stop them.

I looked at Drew.

'Shall we?'

'I think we'd better,' he replied and we set off in pursuit.

The noise had come from the jewellery store. Someone had smashed open the front window. You'd think they would have an alarm or something, but I guess the owner was trying to cut costs. Here's hoping he had sympathetic insurers.

The culprits were climbing out of the window as we arrived, wearing chains and bracelets and necklaces and rings from head to toe. They were demons, blue skinned and with long, snout-like faces, almost pig-like. There were three of them. And they were barely a foot tall each.

'So, what do we do now?' Janice asked.

'What do you think?' Chrissie asked.

Then she unslung her baseball bat and charged.

She missed on her first swing, but her second caught the back of the nearest demon's head. The demon exploded into orange dust on impact.

Another demon leaped at Janice and she jumped backwards, letting out a startled cry.

'Give me your coat,' I shouted at her.

She hastily complied and I used the coat as a net, snaring the demon. I scooped up the bundle and slammed it against the wall. I was left holding just the coat and surrounded by clouds of orange dust.

The final demon had run across to Drew and was trying to scale his pants leg. 

'Catch,' Chrissie said, throwing one of her stakes to Drew. He used both hands to catch it and then brought it down hard upon his attacker. There was another explosion and yet more dust.

Janice sneezed.

'Well that was easy,' Chrissie said. 'Let's do it again sometime.'

Drew groaned.

'Maybe,' I said diplomatically. I looked around. We were all caked in that orange gunk. 'I just hope this stuff washes off. This is my favourite jacket.'


	3. Hank

****

3. Hank

Hank was waiting for me when I got back.

'It's late,' he said.

'I guess,' I replied.

'Good night was it?' Hank asked, eyeing the orange dust clinging to my clothes.

'I've had better,' I told him.

'So this is a regular thing, is it?'

'I'm a teenage girl,' I replied. 'I like spending time with my friends.'

'Believe it or not, I liked hanging out with my friends when I was your age, too,' Hank said, 'and my parents didn't like it any more than I do now. You do know you've got school tomorrow, don't you?'

'Buffy let me stay out late,' I said.

'I doubt that very much,' Hank responded, 'and in any event, Buffy isn't here anymore.'

'No,' I said coldly, 'she isn't.'

'Look, I know I'm not Buffy,' Hank admitted, 'or your mom, but I am thinking of what's best for you.'

'Took you long enough,' I retorted.

Hank sighed.

'Okay, I guess I deserved that,' he replied, 'but I am your father and you're going to have to start respecting that.'

I yawned. I didn't even try and hide it.

'All right, maybe now's not the best time for this talk,' Hank conceded. 'But soon. No get to bed. You'll need your rest for school tomorrow.'

I didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

Before going to bed I took a shower. I really had to scrub to get that orange gunk off of me. It seemed to have got everywhere. My skin was read and raw by the time I was finished, but at least I was finally clean. 

I heard their raised voices as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom. To be fair, they were trying to be quiet, but the walls in our house aren't that thick.

'When are we going back home?' Lydia was saying.

'We are home, honey,' Hank replied.

'But I don't like it here,' Lydia moaned. 'I want to go back to Spain.'

'We're here because of Dawn, remember.'

'Like I could forget.'

'Don't be like that,' Hank said. 'She's my daughter.'

'Well, can't we take her back to Spain with us?' Lydia asked.

It hadn't occurred to me that they might want to do that. I wouldn't let them, I promised myself, though I had no idea how to stop them.

'Dawn's in the middle of school,' Hank pointed out. 'I'm not gong to pull her out now. Let her finish her studies, then we'll see.'

That was a relief.

I yawned again. Crossing the landing, I entered my room and was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

* * *

Across town, Helena was very much awake, though she wished she wasn't.

The leather belt swept down once more and struck her flesh with a crack, leaving a red welt.

'You shouldn't have run away, Helena,' her father said. 'That was wrong. You see that, don't you?'

'Yes, Dad,' Helena agreed through trembling lips.

The belt cracked again. Tears pricked the back of Helena's eyelids, but she did not let them fall.

'That's my girl,' her father said. 'Take your punishment. And when we're done, Daddy will make it all better again.'

Helena could feel her father's warm breath against her cheek. She shivered.

* * *

I was already having a bad morning and I'd only just got out of bed. I kept pulling stuff out of the wardrobe to wear to school, but none of it seemed to fit. It all seemed several sizes too big. In the end, I had to wear the same outfit I'd worn vampire hunting last night. At least most of that orange dust seemed to have gone.

I ran downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. I dashed into the kitchen and opened the fridge, reaching for my lunch bag. It wasn't there. Instead, the fridge was full of little white boxes that seemed to contain some salad concoctions or something.

'What the hell is all this?' I demanded.

'Oh, they're mine,' Lydia explained. She was sitting at the kitchen table, filing her nails.

'And where's my lunch?' I asked patiently.

'Was that what was in that tatty-looking brown bag?' Lydia asked innocently. 'I threw that away.'

I ground my teeth together. I know it's a cliché, but there were definite evil stepmom tendencies about this woman. But I wasn't going to kill her. I was already running late so homicide would have to be put on hold for now.

'Hi, sweetheart,' Hank called as he entered the kitchen.

'Good morning, darling,' Lydia replied.

'I was, er, talking to Dawn,' Hank admitted. 

News to me.

'Can I fix you any breakfast?' he asked me.

I shook my head.

'Gotta dash,' I explained.

'What about your lunch?'

I shot Lydia a look.

'Don't ask.'

'If you say so,' Hank said. 'Listen, before you run, I heard about this play you're in. You're going to get us tickets, right?'

'Um…' I stalled brilliantly.

'How much money do you want for that?' Hank asked, reaching for his wallet.

'It's okay,' I told him hurriedly. 'I got it.'

Translation: they were going to that play over my dead body.

'Now, I've really got to go,' I said, matching action to word and opening the front door.

'See you tonight then,' Hank called.

'Maybe,' I muttered as I stepped outside.

* * *

Xander hated the chair. It just emphasised how weak and useless he had become. Plus, the wheels kept sticking. He gave the chair another shove and it began to roll down the ramp outside the hospital.

'How was physiotherapy?' Anya asked. She was sitting on the wall reading a magazine and enjoying the sunshine.

'Ann,' Xander said, 'what are you doing here?'

'Waiting for you,' Anya replied. 'Isn't that obvious?'

'Well, no actually,' Xander said. 'I thought Halfrek was going to be picking me up.'

'She was,' Anya agreed. 'But I asked if I could do it instead. So, how was physiotherapy?'

'Exhausting,' Xander replied. 'Like going ten rounds with Mike Tyson. And that includes the ear biting. The doc says I'm well on the way to a full recovery, but I'm damned if I can see it.'

'Give it time,' Anya consoled him, climbing off of the wall and stepping round so that she could push his wheelchair along.

'And until then I get to be babied and carried by all my friends. What's not to like?' Xander responded flatly.

'I'm sure it's only temporary,' Anya insisted as they crossed the car park.

'I know and I'm sorry,' Xander replied. 'It's just I hate being a burden to you guys.'

'You're not a burden,' Anya insisted. 'You can be incredibly stupid and hurtful at times, but you're never a burden.

'Thanks,' Xander said, 'I think.'

'You're only human,' Anya told him with a shrug.

'Unlike some people,' Xander muttered.

'Xander,' Anya began, 'I've been thinking and I realise that we haven't really talked since, well, you know and since Trix came back.'

'No, I guess we haven't.'

'And it's just that, well, I wanted to know how you felt about things.'

'What does it matter?' Xander remarked. 'It's your life.'

'Well, I really like Trix, but…'

'I don't see that it's any of my business,' Xander said. 'I just hope the two of you are very happy together. I'm sure you're better off with him anyway.'

* * *

My dress was gorgeous and I like to think that I looked equally stunning in it. Drew's costume was equally spectacular and, as an added bonus, it provided plenty of opportunities for teasing. Unfortunately, whoever had made the outfits had got our measurements wrong and there had to be a bit of hasty pinning before we were ready to go on stage for the dress rehearsal.

'Well, that went well,' Drew remarked sarcastically as we exited, stage left.

'Oh you know what they say,' I replied, 'crap dress rehearsal, fantastic performance.'

'You'd better hope so,' Drew replied.

'Like you were so much better,' I retorted.

'Hey, what are you talking about,' Drew protested. 'That little dance number I do. Awesome.'

'Not the word I would have used.'

'So I kept missing my spot,' Drew admitted, scratching the back of his neck. 'The marks seemed closer together last time.'

'Yeah, everything seems so much bigger today,' I joked. 'Guess it's just nerves.'

'Guess so,' Drew agreed. 'Listen, I meeting up with the others for coffee in a bit. Wanna come?'

'Sure,' I agreed, 'but what do you say we get changed first. Coffee might make you rust.'

* * *

Helena sat cross-legged on her bed. She could smell the freshness of the sheets. Her mother put fresh sheets on her bed every day. She hated that smell.

She hated her room. She had put up her Christmas decorations. Streamers cross the ceiling and tinsel surrounded the window. She even had a small Christmas Tree on her desk. It could not disguise her room, though, the sanctuary that was not a sanctuary. She was should feel safe here. She did not.

She was holding a knife in one hand, gripping the hilt so tight that her knuckles were white. She pressed the flat of the blade against her wrist, feeling the cold of the steel against her skin. Then she slowly turned the knife so that the edge dug into her flesh. Blood began to well up from the open room, but, even as she watched, the wound closed itself. She wiped away the blood with her other hand and, once that was gone, there was no evidence of any damage.

Helena cried.

* * *

'I just wanted to apologise,' Drew began, nursing his cappuccino between the palms of his hands. Janice and Chrissie had yet to arrive so we had some time to ourselves.

'Apologise for what?' I asked.

'You know,' he said, 'for being so hard on you about…stuff.'

'Hey, I can't blame you for not wanting to be involved,' I told him.

'I don't,' he agreed, 'and I don't want Chrissie involved either. But I'm getting that you feel the same way.'

'Sometimes life just doesn't work out the way you think it should,' I remarked sagely.

'What's that, Dawn's Law Number Seventeen?' he asked.

'More like fifty-three,' I replied.

Drew smiled.

'My point is, if you really need me then you know I'm there, right,' he said. 'Just don't call unless you really need me.'

'Deal.'

'Hey guys, where's my coffee?' Chrissie said as she strode over to our table.

'Over there behind the counter,' I said, pointing.

'What, no apology for being late?' Drew asked.

I looked at Chrissie, then back at Drew.

'Drew, this is Chrissie,' I said. 'She doesn't apologise. Ever.'

'Don't I know it,' Drew replied, 'but what can I say? I love her anyway.'

'Later, tiger,' she purred.

I growled and made claws with my hands. Drew fought to keep a straight face.

'So, where's Jan?' Chrissie asked.

My pager went off. I checked the number.

'That'll be her now,' I said. 'Excuse me.'

I went to find a phone.

Minutes later I was back.

'Let's go, guys,' I said. 'Janice's in trouble. Of the majorly weird kind.'

* * *

Janice didn't live that far from me, but that night it seemed like one hell of a long way. When we finally reached her street, I hurried ahead to knock on her door.

'Psst,' hissed a voice before I'd even reached the driveway.

I turned. A figure stepped out from behind a tree.

My jaw dropped.

It was Janice and she barely stood tall enough to reach my waist.

'Oh my god,' I said.

'How do you think_ I_ feel,' Janice retorted. 'What's happening to me, Dawn?'

'I wish I knew,' I replied. 'But we'll fix this, Jan, I promise.'

'What the hell happened to you?' Drew asked as he caught up with me.

'Talk about crash dieting,' Chrissie remarked.

'You are so not helping,' I told her.

'Look can we just change me back,' Janice said. 'This is just too freaky for words.'

'Try and stay calm,' Drew said.

'Stay calm?' Janice repeated. 'How would you like being one of the seven dwarves?'

'Well at least we know which one's Bitchy,' Chrissie commented.

'Frightened of the competition,' Janice snapped at her.

'Enough already,' I said. 'This isn't helping anyone. We need a plan.'

'I'm guessing this isn't natural, right?' Drew said.

'You think?' Janice responded.

'What I mean is, whatever's causing it is more up Dawn's alley than ours,' Drew explained.

'I was thinking the same thing,' I said. 'Let's head over to the Magic Box. Maybe they'll be something in one of the books that'll let us reverse this.'

'They'd better be,' Janice said.

'Or what? You'll bite our kneecaps?' Chrissie asked.

'You think this is all a big joke, don't you,' Janice protested.

'Like you wouldn't see the funny side in my position,' Chrissie replied.

'Will the Magic Box still be open?' Drew asked.

'Nice to see someone's still taking this seriously,' I said. 'And yes, Anya will be doing a stock check. Now let's go.'

* * *

'Dawn!'

We were a couple of blocks from the Magic Box when I heard the voice calling my name. I turned around, looking for the source.

'Who's there?' I demanded.

'Who's where?' Drew asked.

'Didn't you hear that?'

'Hear what?'

'Doesn't matter,' I said. 'Guess the stress is really getting to me.'

'Want to talk about it?' Drew inquired.

'Oh it's just…well, everything really,' I admitted. 'I'm still trying to come to terms with Buffy's death. And my Dad's back complete with brand new pneumatic fiancee. And there's this thing with Helena.'

'Helena?'

'Not your problem,' I told him. 'Of course, out of all that I've got Wesley looking over my shoulder now. And while he's doing that I'm supposed to be keeping you guys out of trouble. No offence.'

'None taken.'

'Not that that's working out too well at the moment,' I confessed. 'And as if that weren't enough, I'm meant to be starring in a musical tomorrow night. Can you say pressure?'

'Just a bit,' Drew agreed.

'Dawn!'

There was that voice again and this time I could see the speaker. Tara was standing in the shadow of a store doorway. 

'Can you see that?' I asked Drew pointing.

'The streetlight?' he asked.

'No. Her,' I said.

'Let me guess, the stress is now causing you to hallucinate.'

'Not funny,' I told him. 'Whatever, I'd better go check this out. Is it okay if I catch up with you guys in a bit?'

'Sure,' Drew replied. 'Just don't be too long, okay.'

''Kay,' I replied.

I waited for them to get out of sight before I crossed the street to speak to Tara.

'Please tell me I'm not going nuts,' I said. 'Or maybe that would be easier to deal with.'

'You're not nuts,' Tara said.

'But I am talking to a ghost,' I replied.

'Got it in one.'

'How come I can see you, but Drew can't?' I asked.

'Because you're special, Dawn,' Tara told me. 'Gifted.'

'Most of the gifted kids I know are good at Math or Science,' I responded. 'Why do I have to be the one that sees dead people?'

'I wish it didn't have to be this way, Dawn, I really do,' Tara said, 'but you have a destiny.'

'You make it sound like that's a bad thing.' I tried to make it into a joke. And failed.

'You'll find out soon enough,' Tara replied.

'What's with all the mysterious spooky stuff?' I asked. 'Can't you just tell me what's going on?'

'I wish I could,' Tara said, 'but I'm not even supposed to be here. I just came to warn you that you're in danger.'

'Like that's news,' I said.

'Please don't joke about this, Dawn,' Tara scolded me. 'One of us already knows what it's like to die and it isn't you. Trust in your friends, Dawn. They can save you, if you'll let them.'

'Cryptic much?' I said. 'Why can't you help?'

'Hello? I'm a ghost. What am I supposed to do?'

And with that Tara faded away.

'As if my life wasn't complicated enough,' I complained to nobody in particular as I hurried after the others. 

* * *

I turned the corner, but they were nowhere in sight. They couldn't have got that far ahead, surely?

'Down here,' Chrissie called.

I looked down.

The three of them were hidden under a litter-bin. And they each couldn't have been more than six inches tall.

'This is getting ridiculous,' I said.

I should have kept my mouth because I guess I offended the gods of irony or something. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I began to feel dizzy. All around me the buildings were getting taller. It took me a moment to realise that they were actually staying the same size and instead I was getting smaller. Hey, I was under a lot of pressure. You can't expect a girl to be at her best under those conditions.

Pretty soon I was no taller than my friends.

'Puts the rest of your problems in perspective, huh?' Drew remarked.

'How is it that such a small man can still hold that much hot air?' I asked.

'Got any more great ideas?' Janice asked.

'Still the same one,' I replied. 'Whatever's doing this is magic and we'll need magic to reverse it.'

'And that means getting to the Magic Box,' Drew deduced. 'Reckon Anya will still be doing that stock check?'

I looked along the length of the sidewalk that now seemed to stretch to infinity and I looked at the cracks that now formed ravines we were going to have to find some way to cross.

'Maybe tomorrow night's,' I said hopefully.

'At least things can't get any worse,' Chrissie commented.

'Um, guys?' Janice said.

We turned as one.

We were facing three pairs of blue webbed-feet. They were attached to demons with pig-like faces, the same demons we had seen at the jewellery store. Only now, they were at least twice our height.

'Well, boys,' one of them growled. 'Look what we have here.'

'What say we finish what we started last night,' his friend said.

'Chrissie, anyone ever tell you you've got a big mouth,' I asked.

'Frequently,' she replied proudly.

I shook my head.

'Wonder why?'


	4. Dorothy

****

4. Dorothy

I've had better Christmases. 

Being menaced by angry demons tends to put a dampener on things. Being menaced by demons when you've been shrunk to a mere six inches tall is worse. But when someone has to drag my friends into it - just after I'd promised to try and keep Drew out of this side of my life - well, I can only assume that someone up there has got it in for me.

Maybe I should ask Tara about it, next time she chooses to manifest herself.

'Any bright ideas?' Janice asked, jumping back to avoid a glob of demon saliva.

'How about you talk to them nicely?' Chrissie suggested.

'Or we could try this,' Drew said.

Now Andrew Kowalski is a reporter for the school paper. Drew, however, dreams of better things and is always on the look out for the 'big one', the story that'll get him noticed by the national press. He thought that maybe Sunnydale's supernatural element might be what he was looking for - until he actually met it in person. Is there actually a point to this digression? Well, only to point out that, in support of his quest for the 'big one', Drew always carried a camera with him. I don't think I've mentioned it before - I kinda took it as read - but it's important now so I thought I'd better clear that up.

Anyway, Drew pointed his camera at the demons and snapped a picture. The flash exploded in the faces and the three demons tumbled backwards, shielding their eyes.

'Run!' Drew shouted.

Yeah, like we needed prompting.

* * *

I've had better Christmases.

Okay, they've been few and far between, but I do remember times when my friends were actually on speaking terms. Maybe I'm being a little harsh, but things have certainly been strained this year. What with crisis after crisis, I guess it's hardly surprising, but sometimes I wonder if the constant pressure of the crises isn't the only thing keeping us together.

'You go on home,' Anya said to Trix. 'I can finish up here.'

'Maybe I'd prefer to wait,' Trix replied, ducking to avoid a red and green streamer trailing from the ceiling. 'I thought perhaps I could take you out to dinner. We could try that Chinese place on Stephenson.'

'That's sweet, Trix,' Anya said, 'but I don't really feel like going out tonight.'

She smiled at him, but it was a watery smile and it did not reach her eyes.

'No problem,' Trix responded. 'You could always come to my place. I'll order takeout and we can just slob in front of the TV if you'd rather.'

Anya put a hand on Trix's arm.

'That sounds…great,' she told him, 'but not tonight. I think I want to be alone.'

'Is that what you really want?' Trix asked.

Anya turned her back on him.

'I just need some space, okay,' she snapped. 'I need time to think.'

'Fine. Whatever,' Trix shot back, picking up his leather jacket and putting it on. 'I just wish I knew where we were going with this relationship. We're in some kind of holding pattern at the moment and every time I try and break us out of it you drag us right back in.'

He tugged open the door, but paused on the threshold.

'I just wish I knew what it is you want,' he said before stepping outside.

'I wish I knew too,' Anya said as the door fell closed.

* * *

I've had better Christmases.

I remember Christmases, recent ones, with Willow and Tara. And with my sister. I remember times spent celebrating with a flesh and blood family. Not with ghosts.

'This isn't exactly a good time,' I said to Tara.

'There's never going to be a good time, Dawn,' Tara replied. 'We've already lost so much time, too much time. It may already be too late.'

I was at the back of the group, driving them forward while looking over my shoulder for signs of pursuit. They were sufficiently far in front not to notice me talking to a ghost. Or talking to the air, rather, given that Tara seemed to be invisible to everybody that wasn't me. 

'What do you mean 'too late'?' I asked.

'You should already have had over a year to acclimatise to your gifts,' Tara explained. 'That was the grand plan. All of the strands of life were woven into the one thread of fate, until Willow intervened and unravelled it all.'

'Willow?' I repeated.

'She upset the balance,' Tara continued, 'and delayed your ascension.'

'My what?' So I sounded like a broken record. I bet you're not following this any better than I was.

'You were supposed to grow gradually,' Tara said, 'under careful guidance, but there is no time any more. There are many who feel that it is already too late and that matters have progressed too far out of hand to be saved. They are already withdrawing from this sphere, leaving its mortal inhabitants to face the darkness alone. But there are a few of us who feel that the plan can still be saved, that you are strong enough to endure the trials ahead without preparation. And we have the support of the Presence in this.'

'In what?' I demanded. 'What is going on, Tara? What is it you expect me to do?'

'Open your eyes, Dawn,' Tara said. 'That's all. Just open your eyes.'

'What, you think I've been running around with my eyes welded shut or something?' I asked.

Tara stepped round behind me and covered my eyes with her hands.

'Trust me,' she said.

Then she took her hands away.

I was surrounded by people. Old people, young people, men and women. The all walked with their heads bowed and their backs bent as if under a great weight and, while they were in full colour, it was a colour that was weak and faded and washed out. And I could see through them.

'Where did they come from?' I asked.

'They've always been here,' Tara said. 'You just haven't looked for them before.'

'They're ghosts, aren't they?' I said.

'Yes,' Tara confirmed. 'You looking at the Ghost Roads.'

'But…but how? Why?'

'It's your gift,' Tara said.

I shook my head. As Christmas presents went, this one sucked.

'Dawn, what's the hold up?' Drew called.

I looked up. Tara had disappeared. Typical.

'What's up, Drew?' I called back.

'Isn't that you're friend,' he asked, 'you know, the demon?'

That description didn't really narrow it down, but it did not take more than one glance at the figure across the street to realise that he was talking about Trix. 

'Hey, Trix!' I shouted.

'Trix!' Janice added her own voice, jumping up and down and waving her arms as she did so.

'Help!' Drew and Chrissie cried.

We screamed as loudly as we could, we shouted until our lungs burned and our throats were raw, but it did no good. Our voices were as small and insignificant as we now were and Trix was not going to hear us. Soon he had walked away out of sight and, at our size, we had no hope of catching him.

Chrissie sat down on the sidewalk.

'What's the point?' she complained, head in her hands.

'Wild guess here, but maybe to stop the monsters from eating us,' Janice replied, 'probably by, you know, running?'

'Jan's got a point, Chrissie,' Drew remarked. 'Sitting here's not going to solve anything.'

'So you're taking her side no, are you?' Chrissie snapped. 'And what's so good about running? Is that all we're going to be doing from now on?'

'We get to the Magic Box,' I said. 'We can reverse this there, I'm sure of it.'

'Well good for you,' Chrissie retorted. 'And have you any idea how long it's going to take us to get there?'

'We're about a twelfth of our normal height, right,' Janice said, 'and we're, what, about fifteen, twenty minutes away at our usual height?'

'Which means it should take us about four hours,' Drew concluded. 'Add on a little for the terrain, but we should still be there by morning.'

'And isn't that just terrific,' Chrissie said.

Janice raised a hand.

'Who votes we just leave her here?' she said. 'Eating her is bound to slow the demons down some.'

'Better we left you,' Chrissie shot back. 'They'll take longer over more meat.'

'Better we left both of you so Drew and I could concentrate,' I snapped. Had Buffy had moments like this with Xander and Willow, I wondered. I doubted it. They were always so together, so organised. They wouldn't have even got into this mess in the first place.

'What we need,' Drew announced, 'is transportation and I think I've found just the thing.'

A skateboard was resting against the kerb. Its owner had left it unattended while he talked - sorry, shouted - with his friends across the way.

'Lead on, MacDuff,' I told Drew. 'Our chariot awaits.'

'Isn't it 'Lay on, MacDuff'?' Janice said. 'That's what Helena said.'

* * *

Helena was curled up in a ball at the head of her bed. Her father stood at the opposite end, zipping up his pants.

'Happy Christmas, Alicia,' he said before leaving the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

'I'm Helena,' Helena told the empty room.

She rested her chin on her knees and trembled. She felt dirty, worthless. She hated herself, hated herself for what she let her father do to her. Hated herself for not having the strength or the intelligence to end it. She just did not know how.

Her dressing-gown lay on the floor, abandoned after her father had roughly torn it from her shoulders. Slowly, she climbed off of the bed and crouched by the garment. She drew the belt from the loops and tested it between her hands. It felt soft, but seemed strong enough for her purposes.

She went to the folding chair under her desk and moved it under the light, lifting it rather than dragging it so as not to make a noise. The she climbed up on to the chair and tied one end of the belt around the light fitting. She tugged on it. The knot seemed secure. Then she made a noose with the other end. Her fingers fumbled over the job, but eventually she was satisfied with the result.

She put the loop over her head.

She took a deep breath. This was it. Please let this be it.

She kicked the chair away and the belt went taut.

Helena had read that often the cause of death in a hanging was a broken neck. Her neck remained resolutely unbroken. Very well. Choking to death was slower and more painful, but it achieved the same result in the end. Only that wasn't how this was going to go down. The muscles in Helena's neck were tough, tougher than she remembered them ever being before, and her throat refused to be crushed and her airways remained open.

So Helena just hung there, limply, tears staining her cheeks as she cursed her fate.

Maybe I have had better Christmases, but I have no right whatsoever to complain.

* * *

'Everybody lean right!' Drew shouted. 

He was sitting directly behind me, but the way the wind was rushing past us it almost carried his words away completely. We all leaned and the skateboard careered around a corner.

'There it is!' I shouted, pointing at the Magic Box.

'Anyone know where the brakes are on this thing?' Janice asked through gritted teeth. She was hanging on to the edge of the board like her life depended on it. I couldn't understand it. Under other circumstances, I would have loved this. I _was_ loving it, if I'm honest.

'Look out!' Chrissie cried.

I looked up. There was a man standing on the street corner, enjoying a cigarette. I hadn't noticed him in the darkness and he hadn't seen us, but we were heading straight for him.

'Lean!' Drew ordered.

'Which way?' I called back.

'Any way,' Janice said.

Somehow, we managed to turn the skateboard and avoid the man. Unfortunately, we struck the kerb, hard and at speed. The board lifted up, throwing the four of us onto the sidewalk.

'I guess we found the brakes,' I muttered. I tried sitting up, but obviously moved to fast because the world started to spin. I moved a lot slower on my second attempt.

The smoking man, still oblivious to us, threw the remains of his cigarette to the ground and wandered off.

'Is everyone okay?' Drew called.

'Define okay,' Janice said, getting to her feet. 'I'm going to be back and blue for a week.'

'Join the club,' I remarked. 'Where's Chrissie?'

'I'm here,' she said, 'but I'm stuck.'

Chrissie had landed in a discarded lump of chewing gum and she couldn't get free.

Drew hurried over to her.

'I'll have you out of here in no time,' he assured her.

'This is disgusting,' she said.

'And just think about the person who's been chewing on that,' Janice said.

'Don't remind me,' Chrissie replied. 'I'm heading for upchuck city as it is.'

'Then maybe that will take your mind of it,' I said. 'Look out!'

Chrissie turned. And screamed.

A kitten was padding towards her. And let's not forget, this kitten was, relatively speaking, the size of an elephant.

It purred and licked its lips hungrily.

'Shoo!' Chrissie said, waving her arms at it.

'Yeah, like that's gonna help,' Janice sneered.

'Quit with the sarcasm and do something,' Chrissie yelled back.

'I'm thinking,' I called back.

'Think faster!'

I looked around. That kitten was getting very close. Maybe it wasn't going to eat Chrissie. Yeah, maybe it was just going to play with her because that would be so much better.

'Dawn, hurry it up,' Chrissie shouted. 'Please! I so do not want to end up as that thing's chew-toy.'

'I'm working on it,' I insisted. 'Jan, give me a hand with this.'

Together, we lifted the discarded cigarette butt. The man had not bothered to stamp it out and it was still smouldering.

'Sorry, kitty,' I whispered. Then I turned to Janice. 'Ready?'

'As I'll ever be,' she replied.

'Charge!'

Holding the cigarette like a battering ram, we charged forward and shoved the smouldering end between the kitten's eyes. The kitten yelped and then scampered away, clearly deciding that this particular prey was more trouble than it was worth.

'Thanks,' Chrissie said as Drew pulled her free of the gum.

Janice was staring at the door of the Magic Box.

'Not that I want to depress everyone or anything,' she began, 'but how exactly are we going to get inside?'

'Through the letter box?' I suggested.

'Yeah, because I'm really going to be able to climb up there,' Janice pointed out.

'You might,' Drew said, 'with a little help.'

He was holding a handful of chewing gum. He slapped his hand against the door and it stuck fast.

'What do you think?' he said.

Janice wrinkled her face in disgust.

'At least let me put some gloves on first,' she said.

* * *

Wesley Wyndham-Price was unpacking a suitcase when he heard the buzz of the (inaccurately named) doorbell. Finding accommodation in Sunnydale wasn't difficult, even at short notice. Apparently, many properties were vacated suddenly. (Odd that.) Still, as Wesley filed his books on the shelves (by subject and then alphabetically), he lamented the lack of space. It wasn't that he himself needed a lot of room, but he had brought a lot of his things down with him (one can never be too prepared, he believed) and it was looking like they were going to remain in their cardboard boxes indefinitely.

Dropping the book he was holding on to the bed (much better than potentially misfiling it), Wesley went to open the door.

'Who is it?' Wesley asked.

'It's me,' came the reply.

Wesley sighed and peered through the spy-hole.

'Halfrek, isn't it?' he asked.

'Got that right,' Halfrek replied, hands on her hips.

'Isn't it a little…late for house calls?' Wesley asked.

'Hey, you're still up, hon,' Halfrek pointed out.

'Yes, but - and I don't mean to be rude - couldn't this wait until morning?'

'Why wait,' Halfrek replied. 'You and I need to talk.'

'I really don't think…'

Wesley trailed off. Halfrek had teleported into the room with him.

'Isn't that a little rude,' Wesley asked.

'I could always go back outside, if you want,' Halfrek offered, 'assuming you're going to open the door this time.'

'You're not going to go away, are you,' Wesley deduced.

'Got it in one,' Halfrek told him. 'There are some ground rules you need to understand.'

'Ground rules? What…no, firstly, I want to know how you even knew I'd arrived?'

Angel had come to Sunnydale with Wesley, hence the late night arrival. Wesley suspected that the vampire had wanted to be sure that Wesley was safely out of his hair. He couldn't blame Angel, not after what he had done. Why was it that doing what you thought was right always ended up costing people? With hindsight, would he have done things differently? It was a stupid question. He hadn't known then what he knew now and, based solely on the information he had had back then, he knew that he would have done the same thing in a heartbeat. He had regrets, sure, but not about making that choice.

'What can I say?' Halfrek asked. 'I've been keeping an eye out for you. Like I said, there are a few things we need to get straightened out.'

'Such as?' Wesley asked.

'Dawn,' Halfrek replied. 'She doesn't need a Watcher. She's not the new Slayer and you'd do well to remember it.'

'I will, don't worry about that,' Wesley assured her. 'I'm not exactly here through choice, remember.'

'Look, Dawn's been through a lot lately,' Halfrek continued, more than you could possibly imagine.'

Wesley ran a finger along the scar on his throat.

'I can imagine quite a lot,' he said.

'Whatever. The last thing Dawn needs now is someone looking over her shoulder the whole time.'

'I couldn't agree more,' Wesley replied, 'but I'm here to help Dawn and, while it may not be my choice, I will do my job to the best of my abilities.'

'Just see that you do,' Halfrek said.

Wesley raised an eyebrow.

'Was there anything else?' he asked.

'Well, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to dinner,' Halfrek admitted. 'You're new in town and I could show you the best places to eat.'

'I seriously doubt there's anywhere still open at this time of night,' Wesley said.

'Oh, I know of a place or two,' Halfrek told him. 'Or we could stay here and I could keep you company. I'd hate to think of you alone on your first night here.'

'You know, Halfrek,' Wesley began, 'I'm beginning to suspect that all of that guff about Dawn was just an excuse to come and see me.'

Halfrek looked up at him from beneath hooded eyelids.

'And would it upset you if it was?' she asked.

* * *

'Need a hand?' Drew asked as he climbed down the inside of the door. The gum made squelching sounds each time he pulled it off and then reapplied it lower down, like homemade suction cups.

'Wouldn't say no,' Chrissie replied and Drew put his arms around her and carried her the last few steps to the ground.

'What about you, Jan?' I asked. 'You okay?'

'Just thinking about how much I'm going to need a shower when this is all over,' she replied.

I smiled.

'You and me both,' I said.

'Well, we're here,' Drew said as we all gathered on the floor. 'What now?'

'The magic books - the real ones - are all upstairs, out of the way of the customers,' I told him.

'Not more climbing,' Chrissie complained.

'I don't think so,' I said. I looked at Drew. 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

'You read my mind,' he replied, untying one of the helium balloons.

'No way,' Chrissie said. 'You have so got to be kidding me.'

'Oh don't be such a spoilsport,' Drew retorted. 'Live a little.'

Keeping a tight hold on the string in one hand, he wrapped his arm about Chrissie's waist and the two of them began to float towards the ceiling.

'Up, up and away!' Drew bellowed enthusiastically.

Chrissie had screwed her eyes shut.

'Shall we?' Janice asked me.

* * *

'Dawn, breakfast's ready,' Hank hollered up the stairs.

He wandered back to the kitchen where Lydia was reading the morning paper.

'I wonder what's keeping her?' Hank said to her. 'She'll be late for school at this rate.'

The doorbell rang.

'Answer that, would you, dear?' Lydia said. Hank was already on his way.

'Good morning, Mr Summers,' Wesley said. 'I don't believe you've met…'

'Halfrek,' the woman said, offering her hand. Automatically, Hank took it and Halfrek shook his hand vigorously.

'Halfrek,' Hank repeated. 'That's an unusual name.'

'Well it gets a boring just having the usual ones,' Halfrek said.

'What can I do for you both?' Hank asked.

'We just stopped by to wish Dawn luck in the musical today,' Wesley told him. 'You'll be there, of course, won't you?'

'Try and stop me,' Hank replied, beaming. 'My little girl's playing Dorothy. It doesn't get much better than that.'

'No, it doesn't,' Wesley agreed.

'But I'm afraid Dawn doesn't seem to be up yet,' Hank continued.

'Not to worry,' Wesley replied. 'I'm sure we'll run into her later. Sorry to have bothered you.'

'No bother,' Hank responded. 'Besides, Dawn should be up by now or she'll be late. Lydia, could you go and check on Dawn?'

'Why me?' Lydia called back. 'She's your kid.'

'Please, Lydia, just do it this once,' Hank said. 'For me.'

'Whatever,' Lydia sighed before stamping upstairs.

'You'll have to forgive Lydia,' Hank told his guests. 'She's not a morning person.'

'She's not in her room,' Lydia called down from upstairs.

'Not in her room?' Hank repeated.

'Oh yes, that's right,' Wesley said hastily. 'She was going to school early to put in some extra rehearsal time. I completely forgot. Silly of me.'

'I wish she had thought to tell me,' Hank said. 'She always seems to be coming and going as she pleases. Come to thing of it, I don't remember hearing her come in last night.'

'She's hardly likely to have been up all night, is she?' Halfrek remarked. 'Not like some people, eh?'

She gave Wesley a playful dig in the ribs. Wesley swallowed.

'Try not to be too hard on Dawn,' Wesley said to Hank. 'She's been through a lot of upheavals recently and she needs time to adjust. I'm sure you do to.'

'That's true,' Hank agreed, 'but there still need to be ground rules and limits.'

'Absolutely,' Wesley replied, 'just try to see things from her point of view, that's all.'

Hank gave a wry smile.

'Yeah, I remember what it was like to be a teenager, too,' he said.

'Well, if Dawn isn't here, we had best be off,' Wesley said. 'If you see Dawn before we do, will you let her know we stopped by? Merry Christmas, Mr Summers.'

'Merry Christmas,' Hank said.

* * *

Chrissie stretched and yawned.

'I thought witches and wizards were meant to be exciting,' she complained, but this is so dull.'

'Speak for yourself,' Janice retorted. She was crawling across the page of a book, utterly engrossed.

'Found anything yet?' I asked her.

'Loads,' she replied. 'This bit here is about a warding spell. It looks pretty straightforward. I wonder if I could…'

'I meant, have you found anything that'll help us get back to normal?' I explained.

'Oh, sorry,' Janice said. 'Then no, not yet. But I'm sure the answer is in here somewhere.'

'Great, more books,' Chrissie muttered. 'I'll just wait over here…hey, look at that!'

We hurried over to the rail just in time to see Anya finish teleporting into the shop.

'I never get tired of that,' she said to herself.

'Hey, Anya!' I shouted.

'What's the point,' Chrissie said. 'She can't hear us.'

'Sorry, I forgot,' I confessed.

'I can hear you perfectly well, thank you,' Anya said. 'Now where are you?'

Our jaws hit the floor.

When I had recovered my composure, I said, 'We're up here. How come you can hear us, but Trix couldn't.'

'Because I'm a vengeance demon,' Anya said as if that explained everything. Maybe it did. 'I'm guessing you've got a small problem.'

'Could we not make size remarks,' Drew said. 'I'm having some inferiority issues.'

'We got covered in some orange demon dust,' Janice explained. 'Next thing we know we're like this.'

'I thought we might be able to find a spell here to reverse it,' I added.

'Probably,' Anya agreed. 'Unfortunately, I don't really know the books that well. That was always Giles' area.'

'Typical,' Chrissie muttered.

'But Wesley might know,' Anya continued.

'Wesley's back already?' I asked.

'Oh yes, he arrived last night,' Anya explained. 'Stay right where you are and I'll go and fetch him. Halfrek should have finished seducing him by now.'

'Halfrek?' I said, but Anya had already vanished.

'So now what?' Drew asked.

'Sorry, still trying to get rid of that image of Wesley and Halfrek,' I said. 'Freaky.'

'I vote for just waiting until they get back,' Chrissie said. 'Or am I the only one feeling tired after being up all night.'

'You know, I had a difficult enough time working out what Drew saw in you in the first place,' Janice commented, 'but if that's all it takes to wear you out then I really am baffled.'

'Please, no more mental images,' I protested.

'Well, I for one don't want to just sit around here waiting to be rescued,' Drew said.

'You're just trying to impress your girlfriend,' I teased.

'And you point is?' he asked.

'Nothing,' I replied. 'I agree with you.'

'I guess that means we're back to the books,' Janice said with more enthusiasm than was really warranted. 'Drew, could you give me a hand getting this one down.'

'Sure,' he said.

Then all hell broke loose.

The font window smashed as three blue demons jumped through it.

'Where are you?' the first demon said. 'We can smell you. You made a mistake, crossing us and now we're going to hunt you down.'

'And then we're going to eat you,' the second one said.

'But we'll play with you first,' the third added. 'It's more fun that way. For us, that is.'

'Now what do we do?' Janice whispered.

'You stay here and wait for Anya and Wesley,' I told her. 'I'll draw them off.'

I tore a page out of the book Janice was reading.

'My book,' Janice cried.

'Sorry, Jan,' I replied. Then I jumped off the landing using the page as a parachute.

The wind carried me through the broken window and out on to the street. Drew landed next to me, holding another ripped out page.

'What are you doing here?' I asked.

'Running,' he said.

Sometimes the simple plans are the best.

* * *

'Dawn's in trouble,' Wesley said.

'But you said she was at school,' Halfrek replied as they walked away from my house.

'Hallie, I only arrived last night,' Wesley pointed out. 'When exactly did I speak to Dawn.'

'Hmm, good point, Wes,' Halfrek conceded. 'So where is she?'

'Wherever it is it can't be good,' Wesley deduced. 'Dawn isn't stupid and, what with everything else that's going on, she isn't about to start rocking the boat with her father without good reason.'

Erm…

'So what do we do?' Halfrek asked.

Wesley frowned.

'I'm a little out of my depth here,' he admitted. 'I'm the new boy and I'm still learning the ropes. However, I think our best course would be to find Anya and the others and pool ideas.'

'Anya should be at the Magic Box by now,' Halfrek said. 'I'll just…'

'Wesley. Halfrek,' Anya said as she suddenly appeared. 'I've been looking all over for you.'

'Speak of the devil,' Wesley murmured.

'Dawn's in trouble,' Anya said.

'Tell us something we don't know,' Halfrek replied.

* * *

'Do you think we've lost them,' Drew panted.

'Let's hope not,' I replied. Then, off Drew's baffled look, I added, 'If they're not following us, they might double back after Chrissie and Jan.'

'Point,' Drew spluttered. 'I'm sorry, Dawn, but I'm going to have to rest a minute. I don't follow the same demon-hunter workout plan as some people.'

'I do tend to get more than my fair share of running practice,' I conceded as we paused to catch our breath.

And it was at this point that I discovered the one great advantage of my new size. Kirstie and the Sweater Mafia were walking up the street on their way to school. I'd love to say Kirstie is a girl with no redeeming features, but life just isn't that fair. Kirstie is tall and slender and curvy in all the places boys seem to like and her blond curls never seem out of place. Her grades, while never spectacular, are certainly better than average and she's no slouch in the sports department either, confidently holding her place in the volleyball team.

But, most grating of all, Kirstie is popular. Now what's wrong with being popular? Nothing, I guess. There was a time when I would have killed to be popular (nowadays I'd just maim). No, my problem with Kirstie is why she's popular. She's popular for being cruel. She preys on those weaker and less fortunate than herself, mocking, teasing and bullying. Pointing out their flaws for all to see, even making stories up where nice juicy ones aren't all ready and waiting for her. The only way to escape her is to be in with her. That is why she's popular.

I've spent the last few years of school doing my best to avoid her, usually without success, and many was the time I would have killed to be so small she couldn't have seen me. Guess I finally got my wish.

Kirstie was talking to her entourage as she walked. Well, talking _at_ might be a better description. The cardigan-wearing members of the Sweater Mafia would hang on Kirstie's every word regardless of what she was saying. At school, being invited to join the Sweater Mafia was the highest honour a girl could hope to receive (short of being Kirstie herself). They were Kirstie's inner circle, her special little helpers. They turned my stomach.

Strange as it may seem, a few weeks into my first semester I had been asked to join them. I had very nearly said yes. Then I saw Kirstie picking on Janice. Her parents were going through a pretty messy divorce and Janice was caught in the middle. Her folks seemed more concerned over who got custody of the car than who got custody of their daughter. I say seemed because the fact is that both Janice's parents love her dearly, but I've had to watch my own parents split up and I can't even begin to tell you how confusing it is for the kid.

So anyway, maybe I was drawn to Janice because I felt sympathy for her. Kirstie was drawn to her the same way a wolf is to a lamb, because she smelled easy pickings. Soon as I saw Kirstie make a target out of someone for something completely beyond their control I knew I wanted no part of her little gang. Of course, turning Kirstie down is rarely a good idea and I might as well have painted a target on my forehead from that day on. Still, I still had my principles, right? And most days I could convince myself it was worth it.

'And I know you'll all be there tonight to support me,' Kirstie was saying to her clutch. 'It's hardly the part I deserved, but I'm sure you'll agree that I've made the part my own.'

Having failed to be cast as Dorothy, Kirstie had instead landed a part as one of the munchkins. Now, I want to stress that it is neither big nor clever to laugh at other people's misfortunes. Sometimes, though, it can be a lot of fun.

'Now I expect you to make sure that the whole school turns out to see my big moment,' Kirstie told her friends. 'I want to be able to look out from that stage and know that all those faces are there for one reason only - me.'

'But what about Dawn?' one of the Mafia - Stacey, I think - asked.

'What about, Dawn?' Kirstie snapped, turning on the dissenter. 'Do you really think she matters to anyone?'

The strap on Kirstie's bag chose that moment to snap and the bag fell to the ground.

'Now look what you made me do,' Kirstie said angrily.

'Quickly,' I hissed to Drew. 'Into the bag. They'll never catch up with us this way.'

It took me a couple of tries to open the zip, but then Drew and I tumbled inside. I wrinkled my nose.

'Is that her lunch?' I asked.

'I dread to think,' Drew replied.

Then my stomach lurched as Kirstie hefted the bag off of the ground. We were off.

* * *

'Where are they?' Wesley demanded as he burst into the Magic Box.

'Up there,' Anya said, pointing.

Wesley took the stairs two at a time and, once on the landing, he got down on his hands and knees, scanning the floor for his quarry.

'There you are,' he said when he spotted Janice and Chrissie. 'Hard at work, I see.'

'Well, we weren't going to just sit here and do nothing,' Chrissie replied. Janice pulled a face.

'Quite,' Wesley said. 'Where's Dawn?'

'She and Drew are leading off the demons,' Janice explained.

Wesley frowned.

'These demons,' he said, 'describe them for me.'

'Blue. About a foot tall,' Janice began. 'Big elongated heads.'

'Like pigs,' Chrissie added, 'but with more teeth.'

'And they had webbed fingers and toes,' Janice continued.

'Anya,' Wesley called down, 'is there a Jane's Demonology down there?'

'I've got it,' Halfrek said, passing up a large tome.

Wesley flicked hurriedly through the pages until he found the one he wanted.

'Are you all right,' Janice asked, concerned by his troubled face.

'I'm all right,' Wesley said, 'it's your friends I'm worried about. These particular demons are carnivorous. They shrink their prey down to a size they can hunt and then they won't rest until said prey is completely consumed.'

'But you can reverse the spell, right?' Chrissie said. 'Their no threat to us at normal size, are they?'

'No, they're not,' Wesley agreed. 'And yes, I believe I can reverse the shrinkage. But it's a question of time, you see. If the demons catch up with them…well, I only pray we're not already too late.'

* * *

Kirstie shoved her bag into her locker.

'Kirstie, thank god you're here,' Mr Gleason said. 'You haven't seen Dawn, have you?'

'Why would I want to,' Kirstie asked. The Sweater Mafia giggled.

'We were going to have a rehearsal this morning, but she's nowhere to be seen,' Mr Gleason explained.

'Don't you worry, sir,' Kirstie told him. 'If the worse comes to the worse, _I _could always play Dorothy for you.'

Over my dead body.

Kirstie slammed the locker door shut and the voices receded into the distance. Drew and I clambered out of the bag.

'Any more bright ideas, Dawn,' Drew asked, 'or do we just wait to be rescued.'

'Look on the bright side,' I replied, 'if we can't get out it means they can't get in.'

Drew looked about as convinced by that as I was.

'Why are you even here, Drew?' I asked. 'I thought you didn't want any part of this, but you're jumping into things just as fast as I am.'

'I wasn't about to let you play hero all by yourself,' Drew said. 'What sort of a gentleman would I be then?'

'The twenty-first century kind,' I replied. 'Besides, it's more than that.'

'Truth?' Drew said. 'After you jumped off the landing, Chrissie was all ready to leap after you. She's really into this whole adventure crap. Wants to be the new Lara Croft or something. Well she may dig all the danger, but I don't want to see her get hurt - or worse - so I went in her place.'

'You really care about her, don't you?' I said.

'It's funny,' Drew replied, 'not that long ago, no girl would have given me the time of day, 'cept for you and Jan and Chrissie and I knew you and Jan weren't about to entertain romantic feelings towards me.'

'You'll make an investigative reporter yet,' I told him.

'Thanks, I think,' Drew said. 'Anyway, it was a joke more than anything else, but I figured I'd have a go at asking Chrissie out on a date. I reckoned she'd put me down, again, but I'd heard all the pithy lines before so what could be worse, right? Well, she said yes.'

'Must have been a shock,' I said.

'You have no idea,' Drew replied. 'So imagine, now I have to go through with this date and the really freaky thing is that we actually enjoy ourselves. So we go out on another date and I'm starting to think there may be more to Chrissie than I first thought. I've found somebody, Dawn, and she's special. Don't ask me how, it's not something I can put into words, but she's unique and she's wonderful and I think I might be in love with her.'

'And what does she feel about this?' I asked quietly.

'She knows I care about her,' Drew explained, 'but that I love her? I haven't the guts to say anything. I mean, it's not like she's going to love me back, is it? But I know she's fond of me and that's something. Whatever happens today, whether we make it out of here or not, I'll always have that and maybe, just maybe that's enough.'

* * *

'Found it,' Wesley announced.

He was sitting cross-legged on the landing pulling book after book off the shelves. The one he was currently holding had a midnight blue cover decorated with gold writing in a tongue Janice did not recognise.

'Well then, what are we waiting for?' Chrissie asked.

'I'm not a magic user,' Wesley explained, 'and nor is anyone else here. I can probably get the spell to work, but it's going to require a lot of preparation and ritual and that's going to take time.'

'But you said Drew and Dawn didn't have time,' Janice replied.

'I know!' Wesley shot back. 'I'll try and work as fast as I can. In the meantime…well, now might be a good time to pray.'

He put the book on the floor, open at the appropriate page and then descended to the ground floor, shouting instructions at Anya, Halfrek and Trix.

'Oh this is just brilliant,' Chrissie complained. 'My boyfriend's going to get eaten just because I don't know any witches.'

'He's not dead yet,' Janice responded as she climbed on to the book.

'Oh yeah? Chrissie asked. 'And how the hell do you know that.'

'I don't, okay,' Janice retorted, 'but I'm not about to give up on them either, unlike some people.'

'Sorry,' Chrissie murmured, sounding genuinely contrite. 'So what are you looking at?'

'That spell,' Janice explained. 'I thought I might be able to spot something Dawn's friend couldn't.'

'Right, because it's not like he's the expert of demonology round here,' Chrissie pointed out.

'I had to do something,' Janice replied. 'Besides, I think I can actually make some of this out.'

Curious, Chrissie climbed on to the book next to Janice.

'Well read it already,' she said.

'But what if something goes wrong?' Janice asked.

'Our friends our about to be eaten,' Chrissie responded. 'How much worse can it get?'

Janice began to read.

* * *

'I should have said something sooner,' Drew said, 'but I haven't really asked how you're coping without…without your sister.'

I looked away so the Drew wouldn't see the tears that had filled my eyes.

'It's okay,' Drew said hurriedly. 'You don't have to answer. It was stupid of me to ask. Sorry.'

'No, it's okay,' I replied, wiping my nose on my sleeve. 'It's tough, you know. She was always there for me. We fought, sure, and maybe I hated her at times, but I always knew that whatever happened I could count on her to catch me if I fell. I don't have that any more.'

'You've got me,' Drew said, 'and Chrissie and Janice. We're here for you.'

'No offence,' I told him, 'but it's not the same.'

'No, I guess it's not,' Drew conceded.

'I've had to grow up really fast,' I continued. 'I'm in charge now. I just want to be a kid again, but I can't, can I? Now I know how Buffy felt when Mom died and I hate myself because I could have been more help to her and I wasn't.'

'That's not your fault,' Drew put in.

'Wasn't it?' I asked. 'Doesn't matter anyway. What's done is done. What's happening now is that I'm drowning beneath the pressure.'

'But you don't have to,' Drew said. 'You don't have to be the grown up. You've got you dad and whatshisname, Wesley, to look out for you.'

'Oh yeah, I'm supposed to just curl up in a corner because poor Dawnie isn't up to fending for herself,' I said.

'That's not what I meant,' Drew insisted.

'I know,' I assured him, 'but that's how it feels. That's how it feels the whole time. Like I'm some kind of failure. Like I'm failing Buffy. You know, I'm almost glad she can't see me now.'

'You don't mean that,' Drew said.

'Don't I?' I asked. 'All I wanted was to keep you and Janice and Chrissie out of this and look what I've done. We're all going to die because I screwed up.'

'We're not dead yet,' Drew said, 'but we would be if it wasn't for your bravery and quick thinking. Your sister would be proud of you. As for keeping us out of it, what, do you think we need to be hidden away because we can't cope with your life. We're your friends, Dawn, and that makes us a part of it whether we like it or not.'

Drew put his hand on my shoulder.

'We're a team, Dawn,' he said.

I reached up and gave his hand a squeeze.

We both jumped back as something hit the locker.

'We know you're in there,' the demon said. 'Are you going to come out or do we have to tear our way in?'

I could hear the sound of claws scraping against metal.

'I'm sorry, Drew,' I said.

* * *

__

'Maat, goddess of truth, we beseech you to lift the veil and restore to us our true natures and form. Cast out the distortions and the lives and show such things as they are meant to be.'

'Well that was a waste of time,' Chrissie remarked. 'Not even a little bit taller.'

'I don't know,' Janice said cautiously. 'I thought I felt something. It was like the hairs on the back of my neck all stood up at once.'

'Probably a draft,' Chrissie said.

'No, it was more than that,' Janice insisted. 'Let me try again.

__

'Maat, goddess of truth, we beseech you to lift the veil and restore to us our true natures and form. Cast out the distortions and the lives and show such things as they are meant to be.'

Chrissie shivered. It was like an electrical shock passing down her spine.

'I felt it too that time,' she admitted. 'Do it again.'

__

'Maat, goddess of truth, we beseech you to lift the veil and restore to us our true natures and form. Cast out the distortions and the lives and show such things as they are meant to be.'

The spell still had no effect.

Janice hit the page with her fist in frustration.

'Dammit,' she said. 'I'm so close, but I just can't get it.'

'Hey, it's okay,' Chrissie said.

'Okay?' Janice snapped. 'Dawn and Drew are going to get eaten because I just not quite good enough and you call that okay?'

'Calm down, Jan,' Chrissie said and she put her hand on Janice's.

There was a blinding flash of light.

* * *

The locker smashed open as Drew and I grew back to our normal size and tumbled out into the corridor. The three blue demons didn't look quite so threatening from this height. I grabbed Kirstie's bag and stuffed the demons, kicking and screaming the whole time, inside.

'That should hold them until we figure out what to do with them,' I told Drew.

'And what if Kirstie happens to open her bag in the meantime?' Drew asked.

'I'm not going to lose any sleep over it,' I replied.

Mr Gleason came running into the corridor.

'What's all that racket?' he said. 'Drew, Dawn, what's going on here?'

'Nothing to worry about,' Drew said.

'Just a small problem,' I added. Drew groaned.

'Yes, well never mind that now,' Mr Gleason said. 'You're late for rehearsal. Go and get into costume. I expect you on stage in five minutes.'

I turned to Drew.

'Shall we?' I asked.

* * *

The hall was full of noise as people took their seats ready for the performance. Everyone was there. Xander's wheelchair meant they all got to sit at the front. Any was sitting between Xander and Trix. She was trying to make small talk with the pair of them, but didn't seem to be having much luck. Wesley and Halfrek were sitting together, sharing a programme, and Hank and Lydia sat next to them. Lydia clearly didn't want to be there, but Hank actually looked like he was looking forward to it. Of course, he could just have been a good actor - I had to get it from somewhere, right? Janice and Chrissie were sitting at opposite ends of the row. I wondered what that was all about. Even Clem had come to see me. He was standing at the back of the hall wearing an overcoat and a big hat.

'Oh my god,' I whispered to Drew. 'Everyone's out there. Everyone! Bring back the demons.'

'You don't mean that,' Drew said. 'Besides, you know they're only hear to see Kirstie.'

I gave him a playful dig in the ribs.

'Break a leg, everyone,' Mr Gleason called.

'Been there, done that,' Drew called back. 

We all laughed.

'Nervous?' Drew asked. I nodded. 'Just try picturing the audience in their underwear.

'Even Hank?' I asked.

'Okay, maybe not him,' Drew conceded, 'but if you could just describe Anya for me…'

I gave him another dig in the ribs, harder this time.

The lights started to dim.

'Go make your sister proud,' Drew whispered to me.

I've had better Christmases, but I doubt I've ad many that have been more memorable.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out on to the stage.


	5. Janice

****

5. Janice

I knocked on the bathroom door.

'Janice,' I called, what's taking you so long?'

'A girl has to look her best,' Janice called back over the noise of the shower.

'You're stalling,' I told her.

'Am not.'

'Are too. Why don't you just say you don't want to go?'

'Would it make a difference?'

'No,' I replied.

'Then I prefer stalling,' Janice retorted.

'You girls okay up there?' Janice's mom called from downstairs. I crossed the landing and leaned over the top of the staircase so I could see her.

'We're fine, thanks, Mrs Penshaw,' I said. 'Janice is just taking her time.'

'No change there then,' Mrs Penshaw remarked. 'Would you like something to drink while you wait. She's liable to be a while.'

* * *

It was another half-hour before Janice and I hit the streets.

'Is it far?' Janice asked.

'We could go the long way if you prefer.'

'Now you're mocking me,' Janice said.

'Jan, I'm hurt,' I said. 'I'm just getting negative vibes here.'

'Hey, I never asked to get hooked up in this whole supernatural crap, okay,' Janice snapped.

I held up my hands in mock surrender.

'Calm down, girl.'

'Sorry,' Janice apologised, 'it's just…I mean, what am I now? A witch?'

'Does that bother you?' I asked cautiously.

'Hell yeah,' Janice replied. 'Black on black is so Chrissie's shtick, you know, not mine.'

She flipped a grin in my direction and I couldn't help smiling back.

'Being a witch is okay,' I told her. 'I just wish Tara and Willow were here so you could talk to them about it.'

'I keep forgetting you know real witches,' Janice said. 'When someone says 'witch' to me I can't help thinking about warts, pointy hats and broomsticks.'

'Some stereotypes are so lame,' I replied. 'Look, you don't have to do any magic if you don't want to. I just want you to talk to this guy just so you don't start casting any spells by accident.'

'You mean losing my temper and turning Kirstie into a rat or something,' Janice suggested.

'I think there's some awkward witch's code that says you can't use your magic to harm others,' I said, frowning.

'Just because I cast magic that doesn't make me a witch,' Janice pointed out.

We walked in silence for a while as we fantasised as to what shape might suit Kirstie best.

'How are things with your dad?' Janice asked suddenly.

'Well that's an odd subject change,' I replied.

'And that's someone who doesn't want to answer the question,' Janice responded.

I thought for a moment.

'It's tense,' I admitted. 'It's bad enough having him back, but he has to bring his fiancee along for the ride.'

'And he's not allowed to fall in love again?' Janice asked.

'Well, I guess,' I conceded, 'but he doesn't have to rub my nose in it. And he could have chosen someone much better.'

'You're jealous,' Janice deduced.

'Of Hank's girlfriend? Give me a break.'

'She's getting the attention you think you deserve.'

'I gave up expecting any attention from my dad when he walked out on us six years ago,' I said.

'You want my advice?' Janice asked.

'Not really.'

'Well, you're getting it anyway. You can carry on hating your dad if it makes you feel better, but you're stuck with him, at least for now, so you might as well make the best of it.'

We continued to walk in silence while I brooded on this. By now, we were nearing our destination.

'Looks like Drew and Chrissie got here before us,' I said, pointing.

'Great,' Janice muttered.

'What's up with you and Chrissie?' I asked. 'I thought you guys were friends.'

'We are,' Janice insisted, 'I think. It's just, well, things have been a bit difficult since she and Drew started going out.'

'Yeah, you two used to be tight, didn't you?'

'I guess,' Janice conceded. 'Not in a romantic way, but Drew and I have known each other since kindergarten. Chrissie's kind of broken up that relationship.'

'And you resent her for it,' I said.

'No,' Janice insisted. 'That would be petty. I don't resent them.'

I raised an eyebrow.

'Am I really that bad?' Janice asked.

'Mm-hmm,' I replied. 'It's not all one-sided though. I'm guessing Chrissie sees you as some kind of threat, whether she realises it or not, hence the queen bitch attitude.'

'Maybe,' Janice said sceptically. 'Do you think it'd help if I talked to her?'

'Doubt it,' I said. 'No remember to smile, our public awaits.'

'Been waiting long?' Janice asked Drew and Chrissie as we approached. They both replied simultaneously.

'Hours,' Chrissie said.

'No, not long,' Drew replied.

'All ready to master the black arts?' Chrissie asked before lunging at Janice while making woo-woo noises.

'Keep away from me,' Janice snapped, flinching.

'This is going to be just swell,' Drew whispered to me.

'Don't complain,' I scolded him. 'It gets them out of our hair for a while.'

I left my three friends for a moment while I went to knock on a door. Jonathan Levinson answered it.

'Hello, Jonathan,' I said.

'Dawn,' Jonathan replied. 'Won't you come in?'

'I'd rather not.'

'I was surprised when you, er, called me,' Jonathan said. 'I thought you were never going to speak to me again.'

'Believe me, if I'd had a choice I wouldn't have,' I explained.

'Yes, well, glad we got that cleared up,' Jonathan said. 'I take it these are the two girls you want me to train.'

'Janice and Chrissie,' I replied. 'Chrissie's the one with the major attitude…hey, I guess they've both got attitude problems right about now. Have fun.'

I turned to leave.

'Dawn,' Jonathan said, 'I'm glad you felt you could come to me with this. I mean, after all that's happened…'

'Let's get one thing straight, Jonathan,' I snapped, 'I do not like you. I hate you. The only reason I am here is that my friends need a magic-user to help them control their powers and you're the only one I know. You got that?'

'I got that,' Jonathan said softly.

'Good.'

I walked away, then sent Janice and Chrissie inside.

'Do you think we're doing the right thing?' Drew asked after the door had closed behind them.

'Do I have to spell it out to you what could happen if they don't get a handle on their powers?' I asked.

'That bad, huh?'

'That bad.'

'And this Jonathan guy,' Drew asked, 'do you trust him. I know what he did…to you sister.'

'You mean he helped kill her,' I said. 'Sure, I hate his guts. But, if I'm honest, I think his heart's in the right place. He said he'd take good care of them and I believe him. Besides, what choice do we have?'

* * *

'Can I give you a ride to school?' Hank asked.

Standing at the kitchen door the next morning with my bag half-on, half-off my shoulder, I was all ready to tell him where he could stick his offer. Then I remembered what Janice had said about making the best of things.

'Why not?' I said.

'You don't like Lydia, do you?' Hank said when he had started the car.

I didn't bother to reply.

'I can understand you hating me,' Hank said as we pulled out of the drive. 'I abandoned you and Buffy and your mother. I wasn't there for Joyce's funeral, I wasn't there to help you put your lives back together afterwards, I can understand why I'm the big bad here. But Lydia hasn't done anything to you.'

'She doesn't have to,' I muttered.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Hank asked.

'I mean she's not Mom,' I replied. 'How could you?'

'How could I what?' Hank asked. 'Fall in love? It's not like I went looking for it.'

'And did you go looking for all those others?' I demanded.

'What others?' Hank replied. 'I don't know who's been filling your head with this trash, but Lydia has been the only woman since…well, since your mother. The. Only. One.'

Did I believe him? After all the other lies, all the betrayal? Yeah, for some strange reason, I think I did. And you know something? It hurt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. Why should it hurt so much to learn that my…that _Hank_ wasn't the monster I thought he was. Well, not entirely, at any rate.

'You could still do better,' I said petulantly. It sounded childish even to me. I might as well have stuck out my lower lip when I said it.

Hank laughed and for a moment the tension in the car lifted. Then he became serious again.

'Hate me if you want,' he said, 'but promise me you'll give Lydia a chance.'

Was it too hard to agree to that? Maybe not, but all the same I was counting the seconds until we pulled up in front of the school.

A figure ran out in front of the car.

'What the -'

Hank yanked on the steering wheel and the car lurched to one side. It was too little, too late and there was a sickening impact as the body rolled up onto the hood.

The car screeched to a halt and both Hank and I were outside in moments. I inhaled sharply as I recognised the body lying in the road. It was Helena.

'I'll call for help,' Hank said, reaching for his mobile phone.

'Hold that thought,' I said.

Helena was moving.

'Don't try to get up,' I told her. I don't know if she didn't hear me or if she just decided to ignore me.

'We should get you to a hospital,' Hank said.

'No hospitals,' Helena insisted. 'I'm fine.'

'Fine? But…'

'Let me take a look,' I said softly. She had taken the impact on her right side so I slowly raised her shirt to examine the damage. As I had been beginning to suspect, there wasn't any, not even the tiniest scratch.

'That's not possible,' Hank said.

'Hank,' I said to him, 'school's just round the corner from here. How about I walk Helena there. I can keep an eye on her.'

'I still say we should get a doctor to look her over,' Hank protested.

'Let's not,' I said. 'Please…Dad.'

I knew what effect the word would have. It was great as emotional blackmail. I didn't owe him anything so I didn't see any shame in doing whatever it took to get the job done. So why did I feel such a heel playing on his feelings like this?

'Okay, we'll play it your way, Dawn,' he said, 'but I want you to tell me what happens as soon as you get home.'

He was in the car and driving away before I'd even had a chance to respond. I stared after him. 

When I turned back, Helena had clambered to his feet.

'Let me help you,' I said, encouraging her to lean on me.

'I don't need any help,' Helena said, pushing me away.

'Yes, I know that,' I said, offering my arm again, 'but unless you want everyone else to know that you're invulnerable, you might want to act a bit injured.

Pointedly, I tilted my head in the direction of a cluster of pedestrians. Helena took the hint and allowed me to take some of her weight, though not much.

'So, what's your damage?' I asked.

'My what?'

'Oh, come _on_. You think I didn't see you run out in front of our car? Were you trying to get yourself killed?'

'I don't…I don't know what you're talking about,' Helena protested.

'That's it, isn't it?' My mouth fell open as realisation suddenly dawned. 'You're trying to kill yourself. But why?'

'I don't…'

'Has it got something to do with these powers of yours?' I pressed. 'I saw the way you killed that vampire and that was great and all, but I can understand how having strange powers could freak you out. I can understand better than you know.'

'That's not it,' Helena said.

'Then what is it? I want to help, Helena, but you've got to let me in.'

'Just leave me alone!'

Helena pushed me away. She probably only intended to break my hold on her, but she misjudged her own strength and sent me flying several feet through the air. Fortunately, a flowerbed broke my fall. By the time I had picked myself up and dusted myself down, Helena had disappeared inside the school. I hurried after her.

* * *

I found her on her knees, picking up books from the floor of the corridor. Kirstie and her attendant Sweater Mafia were standing around her, laughing.

'Ah, poor Helena,' Kirstie mocked. 'Still I suppose it wasn't her fault.'

Well, she'd got that right, at least. I had a pretty good idea whose fault it was, though.

'You can't possibly expect anyone to walk properly with those feet,' Kirstie continued.

There wasn't anything wrong with Helena's feet, but that was not the point. All it takes is for an idea to be planted and suddenly everyone is looking at those feet and commenting on their size and their shape, seeing defects that aren't there. And the whole time, Kirstie is standing in the centre of it all, a look of false pity smothered across her face, the gleam of triumph in her eyes.

'You poor thing,' Kirstie persisted, twisting the knife, 'did you're mother do it with a frog? Yes, that's the problem, isn't it, Frog-girl?'

'Frog-girl, Frog-girl.'

First the Sweater Mafia took up the chant.

'Frog-girl, Frog-girl!'

Then the other bystanders joined in.

And the whole time, Helena sat on the floor, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. I couldn't understand why she didn't stand up for herself. It wasn't like she had anything to fear from Kirstie.

'How's it feel, Frog-girl,' Kirstie asked, 'knowing Daddy's a reptile?'

'Better than being the milkman,' I told Kirstie, 'and frogs are amphibians, not reptiles. Everybody knows that.'

Oh boy. When was I going to learn not to stand up to Kirstie? Unlike Helena, I didn't have superhuman strength or toughness to rely upon.

'Well if it isn't Gravestone Girl,' Kirstie said, hands on her hips. 'Don't get to close to her, boys and girls. People she knows have a tendency to drop dead.'

'Let's put that theory to the test, shall we?' I said before launching myself at Kirstie.

What can I say? I was a hair-puller.

Despite her prom-queen looks, Kirstie wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirty either. Additionally, she had the Sweater Mafia on her side. So, as the rest of the pupils chanted 'Fight, fight, fight!', I was buried beneath a pile of limbs and the next thing I knew I was outside the principal's office looking like I was the one who'd been hit by the car.

And Helena hadn't lifted a finger to help me.

* * *

'Hey, Greg, fancy a beer,' Xander offered. 'There's some cold one's in the fridge if you don't mind getting them for yourself.'

'Cheers,' Greg said. He was a short, slim man in jeans and a tie-dyed shirt. He didn't look like much, but he was one of the hardest workers on Xander's crew.

'How's life?' Greg asked, sitting down on the couch and opening his can.

'Honestly?' Xander asked. 'Life on wheels sucks. The only upside is that I don't think I've ever had this many visitors. At least you didn't bring grapes.'

'I'll remember for next time,' Greg promised. 'Still, at least you won't be in the chair forever. What's the latest?'

'Doctor reckons I might be back on my feet within six months,' Xander replied. 'It was twelve at first, but the doc says I'm a fighter.'

'Well she's got that right,' Greg laughed. 'Guess that means you'll be back running the show before we know it. I'll warn the boys to enjoy the time off while it lasts, because the taskmaster will be back soon.'

'It's not going to matter, Greg,' Xander replied. 'I'm not coming back.'

'You're not?'

'Nope,' Xander confirmed. 'I'm leaving Sunnydale.'

* * *

'Today, we're going to try and float a pencil,' Jonathan said.

He was circling the edge of the bare room. All of the furniture that had been here had been redistributed elsewhere in the apartment to give them more space. Chrissie and Janice sat inside a circle of salt. Four candles were part of the circle at the four compass points, a yellow candle was north, a blue candle east, a red candle south and a green candle west.

'You want us to float a pencil,' Chrissie repeated, 'because that's going to be really useful. Not.'

'Everyone has to start somewhere,' Jonathan replied, 'and you're less likely to do any damage with that.'

'Fine,' Chrissie muttered, 'so what do we do, close our eyes and thing light thoughts.'

'You hold hands,' Jonathan said.

'What!' both girls protested in unison.

'We went through this yesterday,' Jonathan sighed. 'Neither of you has any real talent on your own, but you're like two halves of a whole. You know, like Kirk and Spock or Artoo and C3PO.'

'We get the picture,' Janice said.

'Think of it like a chemical reaction,' Jonathan continued. 'Take sodium and water. On their own, pretty boring, but mix them together and…boom!'

'Less with the boom, please,' Janice said.

'Spoilsport,' Chrissie retorted.

'Are we going to do this or not?' Jonathan asked. 'I could be watching _Babylon 5_ re-runs, but instead, I'm doing Dawn a favour because I feel guilty about what happened to her sister. Of course, if you're not interested, there's the door over there.'

'Dawn thinks this is important,' Janice said to Chrissie.

'So does Drew,' Chrissie agreed. 'Hey, Jono! We keep being told how important it is for us to learn to control this, but do you want to spell it out what'll happen if we don't?'

Jonathan folded his arms. Then he unfolded them and stuffed them in his pockets.

'Well, basically magic is the altering of reality to suit your will,' he said. 'I mean, that's a very simplistic take on it, but that's the, er, the fundamental idea. So, imagine for a moment you can't control your power and you just keep altering reality around you. You could start making your dreams real. Or your nightmares. I remember Doctor Doom did that once and he brought all his enemies back to life by accident and…and I'm guessing you don't read comics much.'

'Not much,' Janice admitted with a pained smile. 'But we get the picture.'

'Let's do this, then,' Chrissie said, extending both her arms in front of her. Janice did the same and clasped both of Chrissie's hands in hers.

'Now slow your breathing like I taught you,' Jonathan said. 'That's it…In…Out…In…Out. Imagine a light pouring from the top of your head and flowing all around you. Now, focus on the pencil, but don't think of it as a pencil. Think of it as a feather, light and fluffy, and there's a breeze picking up and it's caught the feather and it's lifting it…'

Slowly, but surely, the pencil was being lifted off of the ground.

'Wow!' Chrissie cried. 'We're doing it. I can't believe we're really doing it.'

Her concentration broken, the spell collapsed and the pencil plummeted to the ground.

'Let's do that again,' Chrissie suggested.

Jonathan shook his head.

'That was very good, but I think that's enough for one night.'

'But…'

'You're hear to learn how to use magic safely,' Jonathan insisted, 'and that means taking it slowly. We'll do some more tomorrow.'

Crestfallen, Chrissie turned to Janice.

'That means you can let go of me now,' Chrissie said, 'unless you're enjoying yourself, that is?'

Janice snatched her hands back.

* * *

'Can I get you something?' Xander asked. 'You may have to wait a while, though. I'm still having trouble getting this chair about the apartment.'

'I'm fine, thank you,' Anya replied. She was sitting on the edge of the couch, he back straight as a rod.

'So what can I do for you?'

'I wanted to talk to you,' Anya said. 'Trix seems to think our relationship is in a holding pattern.'

'You want to talk to your ex about your new beau?' Xander said. 'So not interested.'

'Xander, this is important to me,' Anya insisted.

'Yeah, well, I'm sorry and all, but don't let the door hit you on your way out.'

'Xander!' Anya snapped. 'I think the problem with our relationship is you.'

'Me?'

Anya got up and began to pace.

'Didn't there use to be a rug here?' she asked.

'I couldn't get the wheelchair over it,' Xander explained. 'Don't avoid the question. How am I the cause of your problems?'

'I guess I just need to move on, Xander,' Anya said, 'but every time I try to I keep seeing us and our relationship. You're haunting me.'

'So this is all my fault, is it?' Xander asked. 'I didn't ask to be with you in the first place. You came on to me, remember? All I did was end it before things went too far.'

'Xander, it's just...we…I need to know, do you still love me?'

Xander paused.

'I've never stopped loving you, Anya,' he said at last. 'The only reason I left you at the altar was because I loved you so much I couldn't put you through the hell to come. And it's because I love you so much I'm telling you to forget about the past, forget about us, and work on holding on to your demon boyfriend.'

'But…'

'Just because I hate his guts doesn't mean I can't see how much he loves you,' Xander explained. 'You want to make sure you make him yours before he slips through your fingers.'

* * *

I was grounded. If Hank had his way I'd be grounded for the rest of my life. He had heard about the fight and he was less than impressed. My refusal to explain only made things worse. So, instead of going to see the new band playing at the Bronze, I was stuck in my room.

Which was exactly where I wanted to be.

'You can come out now,' I said. 'I know you're watching me, Tara, so why not show yourself.'

She shimmered into existence, like steam fogging a mirror. Then she sat down next to me on the bed, smoothing out her long skirt as she did so.

'Hello, Dawnie,' she said.

'Hey,' I replied.

'I'm glad you called,' she said. 'We've got a lot to talk about. You need to know more about your destiny and…'

'Not tonight, please,' I interrupted. 'I just want to, you know, talk.'

'Talk?' Tara repeated.

'Yeah,' I said. 'I mean, I thought you were gone for good, but now I can see you and I thought maybe we could just, you know…'

'No, I don't,' Tara replied. 'It's not as if I can 'hang' anymore, Dawn. I'm dead. Just because you can see me doesn't change that.'

'And does being dead make you all serious and portentous all the time,' I shot back, 'because if so then I'm going to live forever. All I want to do is talk.'

I looked away.

'First Mom died. Then you and Giles left and Willow went all crazy and Xander and Anya split up and I was caught in the middle and I didn't know which way to turn. But then you came back and I don't think I'd ever seen Willow so happy and I was so over the moon and I thought maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay again.

'Do you think I jinxed it? As soon as you guys got back together, you died. First you, then Willow. And to cap it all, not six months later my own sister sacrifices her life to save me. Again. Only this time she isn't coming back and I'm on my own except for a father I don't even know or like.'

I could feel hot tears upon my face, but I didn't care.

'I just…I just feel like falling apart, you know. I guess I did over Christmas. When we were shrunk. If it hadn't been for Drew I reckon I'd have just curled up and died back then. I want…I need…I don't even know what I need, but it'd sure help if I had someone to talk to about stuff. You know, like old times.'

I turned back to face Tara and I could swear there were tears in her eyes too.

'Dawnie, I'm so sorry,' she said. 'You want to just talk then we'll just talk. For as long as you need to, okay.'

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet.

Tara held out her hand.

'Wanna thumb wrestle?' she asked.

* * *

'Hey, Jan, wait up,' Chrissie called.

'Go home, Chrissie,' Janice called back.

'Come on, Jan,' Chrissie said. 'Don't tell me you're not like still buzzing from what we did back there.'

'Playing with dark forces is your bag, not mine,' Janice insisted. 'I'm there to learn to control this thing and then I'm through.'

'Don't be like that,' Chrissie said. 'You can't tell me that this stiff isn't major league cool.'

'This stuff creeps me out,' Janice replied.

'Well, yeah, but that's the fun part,' Chrissie persisted. 'Please, Jan, I can't do this without you.'

'And that's a bad thing?'

'Think for a moment, Jan,' Chrissie said. 'Dawn's facing down the forces of evil practically every night. We both want to help her, right? What better way for us to do it than through magic? If we've got it, let's use it.'

Janice stopped and turned to face Chrissie.

'What do you want?' she asked.

Chrissie produced a book from her backpack.

'I swiped this from the _Magic Box_,' she explained. 'Figured, since Jono insists on a softly, softly approach, we might benefit from some homework.'

'That is so not a good idea,' Janice told her.

'It'll be fun,' Chrissie said.

'It could get us both killed. Haven't you been listening to a word anyone's been saying?'

'We just have to be careful, that's all,' Chrissie insisted. 'Come one, Jan, just one spell. Please.'

'Okay,' Janice said finally. 'But just the one.'

They crept silently up to Janice's room. Her mother was downstairs watching TV. Janice didn't have any proper witchy paraphernalia at home, but Jonathan had shone them that the exact nature of the object didn't matter, as long as it meant something to the witch. Bearing that in mind, Janice began to construct a temporary set-up. Chrissie, meanwhile, flicked through the book for an interesting spell.

'Ready,' she whispered.

'I think so,' Janice said.

'What the hell is that?' Chrissie asked, pointing to a battered soft toy in the centre of the circle. The toy was in the shape of a small brown dog. Most of the stuffing had fallen out and what was left had gathered in the toy's arms and legs giving him bizarre proportions.

'That's Roger,' Janice explained defensively. 'Jonathan said that we should use things that were important to us and he's important to me, okay?'

'Okay,' Chrissie said. 

She sat down cross-legged on one side of the circle. Janice sat down opposite her. Cradling the spell-book in her lap, Chrissie began to chant the same seven-word phrase over and over. Once she had had a chance to memorise the words, Janice joined in. After about five minutes of this, Chrissie snapped the book shut.

'Is that it?' Janice asked.

'Now you have to touch me,' Chrissie said. 'Don't look at me like that. You know that's how our power works. And you know you want to.'

'Like hell,' Janice muttered, but she reached out and touched Chrissie's arm anyway.

Then the world spun. Janice felt giddy. Hr stomach lurched and she felt she as if she was going to be sick.

'Is that supposed to happen?' she asked.

She looked up and glanced over at Chrissie. The face looking back at her was her own.

* * *

Across town, Xander was having a bad dream. It was the same dream he always had, the one where Willow slips through his fingers like smoke on the wind. He tossed and turned uneasily upon his bed until, finally, he rolled out of it and landed in a heap on the floor.

The impact shocked him to wakefulness. He was grateful for that, at least. He was less grateful for the fact that he now had to work out a way to climb back into bed.

He lifted himself up on his hands, wishing there were some way he could support his weight with his legs…

…and then he was outside in the street. And he was walking!

* * *

'Dawn, something's wrong,' Tara said. 'I can feel it. I…'

Tara wasn't there any more. Nor was my room. I was somewhere else entirely. I shivered. The window was open and the curtains, though closed, billowed wildly in the breeze. Plus, I was only wearing underwear. At least, I assumed it was me, but the body I was looking at didn't look like mine at all. The skin was the wrong colour for the start. It was like milk chocolate, like Helena.

Then the door to the room burst open. I turned to face the intruder, while at the same time wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to preserve my modesty. A large dark-skinned man stood in the doorway. It was Helena's father and he was holding a belt in his right hand. He eyed me hungrily and slapped the belt against the palm of his free hand. 

The room echoed with the sharp crack of leather against flesh.


	6. Chrissie

****

6. Chrissie

Trix fell out of bed and landed with a thump on the floor.

In and of itself, that was hardly unusual. Trix had a habit of moving around when he slept and would often wake up on the carpet amid a tangle of sheet and limbs. What was unusual was that he had fallen out of the left-hand side of the bed and the left-hand side of Trix's bed was up against the wall.

Ergo, he had not fallen out of his own bed.

Now again, there was a time when that would not have come as a surprise, but since meeting Anya he had been utterly faithful to her and, since Anya had yet to invite him back to her place for more than a coffee, it could not be her bed either.

So where was he?

He began to clamber to his feet to get a good look at his surroundings, but he was having a hard time getting his legs to work. He forced them to move and then cried out in pain, falling back to the floor.

He glanced back to see what was wrong with his legs and received a shock. They weren't his legs. And he definitely would not be caught dead in those boxers. Hearts were not his thing.

He ran his hands across his face. There was some stubble, but not the beard he was used to and his horns were missing completely. Something was seriously wrong here, but he would have to find a way to get up before he could try to work out what it was.

Then his eyes settled on the wheelchair and he finally realised where he was.

* * *

Xander was running. He whooped with glee as he raced along, ignoring the odd glances his behaviour was attracting. He was running! He had forgotten how much he had missed this, missed the wind against his face, tousling his hair, missed the pounding of his heart against his chest and the thump-thump of his feet against the sidewalk.

He knew it could not last. It had only taken a quick peek at his reflection in a shop window to confirm his suspicions that the body he was in was not his. Pretty soon now he would have to call the gang and try to find a way to return this body to his rightful owner. But, just for a little while, he was going to enjoy it while he had it.

* * *

'Are you girls all right up there?'

Janice and Chrissie jumped at the sound of Mrs Penshaw's voice.

'We're fine, Mom,' Janice said.

'Is that you, Janice?' Mrs Penshaw asked. They could hear her starting up the stairs.

Janice began to say something else, but Chrissie stopped her.

'You sound like me,' she pointed out.

Janice shivered. Looking at herself, watching herself move and talk, well it was really starting to freak her out.

'We have to do something,' she whispered. 'We can't let her see us like this.'

'Why not?' Chrissie replied. 'It's not like she's going to realise anything's wrong.'

Janice raised her eyebrows.

Chrissie shrugged.

'Yes it's me, Mom,' she called out. 'Sorry about the noise.'

'Well, try and keep it down, okay,' Mrs Penshaw replied.

'Okay,' both girls called back in unison, relieved to hear feet descending the stairs.

Chrissie looked at Janice. She was really going to have to do something about her hair, she decided,

'So what now?' she asked.

* * *

Helena blinked. Then she pinched herself, but the scene before her didn't change. She was sitting on the edge of a bed, but the bed was not her own. There was a stuffed pig sitting next to her. She reached out a hand and began stroking it absently as her eyes darted around the room.

There was a mirror above the dresser. Helena got to her feet, picking up the pig as she did so, and walked over to it.

The face that stared back was not Helena's own and slowly that face began to smile.

* * *

I took a step away from Helena's father.

'Where do you think you're going, Alicia?' he asked, stepping forward himself.

'Who's Alicia?' I asked.

I continued to walk backwards and struck my shoulder against the wall. Helena's father was between me and the door and I had nothing with which to defend myself. Why _should_ I have to defend myself, I wondered. As far as he was concerned, I was his daughter so why did I feel so threatened? Was this what Helena felt? 

'Don't be coy, Alicia,' Helena's father continued. 'You know what happens to bad little girls.'

He slapped the belt against his palm again and I flinched. 

'Of course,' he continued, stepping even closer, 'if you're a good little girl…'

He was whispering in my ear now, his breath hot against my skin. He placed a roughened hand against my shoulder. No, not my shoulder, Helena's. Then I reconsidered. For the duration, this was my shoulder, my body, me. He was touching me and my skin crawled. When I realised that he thought he was doing this to his daughter, my skin practically leaped off and slithered away to another room. I looked into his dark brown eyes and they were hungry, hungrier than any vampire I had seen. 

His hand slid lower, onto my chest and I shoved him away. 

'Get your hands off of me!'

The force of my attack carried him halfway across the room and only the bed stopped his backwards motion. The edge of the bed caught him just below his knees and he fell down on it. I had forgotten about Helena's strength.

Helena's father stood up. The hunger in his eyes had been replaced by anger, fiery anger that spilled out across the rest of his face.

'I warned you,' he snarled. 'I warned you about what would happen to bad girls, but you wouldn't listen, would you, Alicia? Why do you always have to defy me? Do you think I want to hurt you? But I am your father, Alicia, and you must learn discipline in my house.'

The belt snapped out like a whip. I turned to avoid it, but the leather caught me across the exposed flesh of my back and I cried out.

'It didn't have to be like this, Alicia,' Helena's father insisted, 'but lessons must be learnt. Discipline must be maintained.'

He raised the belt again and it fell with a crack.

I caught it this time, biting back the pain in my hand as I tore it out of his grip.

'Who are you?' I asked. 'What sort of man beats his own daughter?'

'How dare you?' His face was horribly twisted now, rage robbing him of his humanity. He struck me and my teeth rattled in my skull. Reflexively, I struck him back.

Once again, I had forgotten Helena's strength.

He fell backwards, eyes rolling upwards in his skull as his head struck the corner of the dresser. The dark wood was now stained with blood.

I stared down helplessly at the unmoving body and despaired at what I had done.

* * *

'What do you mean 'what now'?' Janice asked. 'You're the one into all of this witchy stuff. You work it out.'

'Well I don't know, do I?' Chrissie protested. 'If I did this wouldn't have happened.'

'I did say this was a bad idea,' Janice said. 'You remember me saying what a bad idea this was.'

'Just shut up already.'

'I thought you wanted me to sort this out.'

'Well can't you do it quietly or something?' Chrissie asked. 'And are you aware of how uncomfortable this sweater is?'

'It looks good on you…I mean, on me,' Janice amended hurriedly.

'Ever the little sheep of fashion,' Chrissie mocked.

'It's called taste,' Janice replied, 'something you're sorely lacking.'

She began to root around in her wardrobe.

'What do you think you're doing?' Chrissie demanded.

'The way I see it,' Janice replied as she began hurling clothes onto the bed, 'we need to go and find help and there is no way I am going out dressed like this.'

'So what do you plan to do? Go and run to little Jonathan and tell him what a mess we made?'

'You made,' Janice corrected. 'This was your idea.'

'Which you went along with. No way I'm taking all the blame here.'

'Whatever, okay. And besides, I was going to go look for Dawn.'

'Oh of course,' Chrissie said, 'because Dawn always knows what to do. Have you ever tried thinking without her help? Or would that strain that pretty little head of yours?'

'I just don't understand you, Chrissie,' Janice replied, shucking off Chrissie's black jacket. 'Dawn's always been there for us. We were a team.'

'That's kind of the point, Jan,' Chrissie replied. 'We _were_ a team. Now we seem to be Dawn and her little helpers. Every time we try to pull our weight, she pushes us back down. Do you really think she'd let us study magic if she thought she had a choice?'

'That's not fair, Chrissie,' Janice said. 'Dawn's just trying to protect us.'

'And who made her our keeper?'

Janice shook her head.

'I'm gonna go find her anyway. You do what you like.'

'In that case,' Chrissie began, 'I'm going to get Drew. If we are a team then it's about time we started acting like one.'

* * *

'Dawn, are you in there?'

There was a knock at the door. Helena looked up sharply, wondering whom the voice belonged to. She decided to play it safe.

'Come in.'

The man who entered the room was Hank, but Helena didn't know that. Still, she suspected as much and decided to take a gamble.

'Hi, Dad,' she said.

Hank flinched and Helena frowned, turning away quickly to hide it. She began toying with the bits and pieces I had left on top of the dresser while she thought. Had she guessed wrong? Had she blown her cover?

'If you're just calling me that to soften me up, Dawn, it won't work,' Hank said. 'We need to talk.'

Helena breathed a sigh of relief. So this was Dawn's dad after all, they just seemed to be having some problems.

'Talk about what?' Helena asked.

Hank sat down on the edge of the bed and began massaging his temple with his left hand.

'We need to start setting some ground rules, Dawn,' he began. 'I don't know what Buffy let you get away with, but I'd put money on it being less than you'd like me to believe. In any case, this isn't about Buffy. This is about you and me and I'm not happy about you being gone till all hours of the night with no adequate explanation.'

'Okay, Dad, I'll try and do better in future,' Helena said. 'I promise.'

'Don't think you can sweet-talk me either,' Hank warned.

'I'm not,' Helena insisted. 'I really do want to do better. It's odd, but I feel like a whole new person.'

'That's good,' Hank said. 'Maybe we can make a go of this after all.'

He reached for Helena, for his daughter, but she pulled away. He drew back, a pained expression on his face.

'I'm sorry, honey,' he said. 'I guess it's still a bit soon, huh? We've all got some stuff to work through.'

'You have no idea.' Helena had not meant to say that out loud, but it was obvious that Hank had heard her.

'Well, maybe if you'd open up a bit more, I would,' he snapped. 'I'm not a mind reader. I know you're unhappy, but I can't just wave a magic wand and make it right. I need to know what the problem is in order to fix it and you just don't seem to want to help.'

Helena stared at her feet, hands balled into fists in her lap.

'I'm sorry,' she murmured.

'No, I'm sorry,' Hank replied softly. 'I'm going to go and make something for dinner. I'll give you a shout when it's ready and you can come down and join us. It's about time we sat down as a family.'

He closed the door behind him as he left.

It was several minutes more before Helena allowed herself to relax. Slowly, she opened up her hands. In her right hand she had been holding my nail scissors. She had obviously been squeezing them way too tight and they had pierced her/my skin.

Helena marvelled at the trail of blood running across her palm.

* * *

Trix was soaking wet.

That was Anya's first thought when she opened the door and found the demon waiting on the step.

'Come inside before you catch your death,' she said, putting a hand on his wrist and half dragging him inside herself. 'There are towels in the bathroom. You go dry yourself off while I put the kettle on.'

Anya went into the kitchen and began to fill the kettle.

'Is it raining heavily?' she asked.

'You could say that,' Trix's voice echoed from the bathroom. 'Guess God's finished his bath and has just pulled out the plug.'

'That's an interesting way of putting it,' Anya began, turning round, 'but…'

Her rebuttal died on her lips. Trix was standing in the doorway, massaging his dark hair with a fluffy white towel. He had taken off his shirt and Anya caught herself admiring his chest. There was a vertical line of downy hair that ran from his chest, down across his stomach and disappeared beyond the waistband of his pants.

'So, um, what are you doing here?' she asked, turning away, ostensibly to get two mugs from the cabinet.

'Anya,' Trix began, 'there's something I need to tell you.'

* * *

Grant Renfield stood at the grave of Amy Irving. Normally when he visited his girlfriend he knelt down beside her, but the heavy rain was churning the ground into swamp. The rain fell angrily, vengefully, onto Grant's black umbrella from the blue and purple clouds, like bruises hanging in the sky.

Grant came hear to mourn. He and Amy had had some good times together. Hell, they'd had some fantastic times. But it had all been too brief. Amy had been hit by a car while on her way to meet him. The impact had ruptured her spleen and she had died at the hospital. Amy's parents did not approve of Grant and by the time anyone thought to tell him what had happened, Amy had already lost consciousness for the final time. The Irvings wouldn't even let him into her room at the hospital to hold her hand as she passed away. Instead he could only watch, separated from her by the small glass window in the door.

Grant came to visit Amy once a week every week. Her parents had spotted him here once and her father had tried to start something with him, before his wife had guided him away. Grant had a regular time her and, once the Irvings realised this, it was easy enough for them to avoid him.

Grant came here to mourn and to remember the good times. Instead, he only felt angry. Angry at the driver, who should have gone down for murder, but who had been let off with a slap on the wrist, angry at Amy's folks, who had kept them apart even at the last, and maybe even a little angry at Amy herself, who had gone and left him all alone.

'It's hard, isn't it.'

Grant spun round to face the speaker.

'It's tough trying to carry on once their gone.' The speaker was a young woman. She had a round face, farmed by hair that was as black as the rest of her outfit. Her skin was deathly pale and blue veins stood out on her forehead. She seemed to have a violet halo all around her, but Grant put that down to a trick of the light.

'Who are you?' he asked. 'What do you want?'

'I'm a friend,' the figure replied, 'and I want to help you. I know what it feels to have someone taken from you unfairly. You want to strike back to try and put things right even though you know, deep down, that you can never put all of the pieces back together. Humpty-Dumpty's fallen off that wall and even if you had all the king's horses and all the king's men it would still be a lost cause.'

'What are you, some kind of social worker,' Grant spat back, 'or are you just crazy?'

The figure cocked her head to one side and smiled.

'Maybe a little,' she purred. 'Aren't we all?'

Grant scowled. All he wanted was to spend some time alone with Amy, not waste his breath on the freak-show over there.

'I only want to help you,' the woman said. Her voice was silky-smooth. It made him shiver just to listen to it.

'Help me how?' Grant snapped. 'Is this the part where you tell me there's nothing I can do and I need to move on?'

'No, this is the part where I give you the power to do something about it, isn't that right, Miss Edith?'

Then the figure extended her right hand and touched Grant's forehead with a bony index finger.

And Grant had never felt more alive.

* * *

Helena had escaped by climbing out of the bedroom window. She had broken a nail on the climb down and even as she ran she watched it in delight and amazement as it conspicuously failed to grow back. She tripped and grazed her knee, but the damage only caused her to laugh.

She was vulnerable in this body. 

She had thought that maybe she could make a new start with Dawn's family. They did not know that she was not their daughter. But then she had met Dawn's father, endured his anger. No, she was not going back to that ever again. 

But there was an alternative, and alternative that had been denied to her in her previous all to perfect body. Dawn's body could be hurt, could be damaged, maybe even killed. She could finally find the escape she longed for.

* * *

'Drew, there's someone here to see you,' Mr Kowalski called up the stairs.

'It's a girl,' Mrs Kowalski added with noticeable pride.

'I'm coming,' Drew called back as he tumbled down the stairs.

His mother stopped him.

'Now, let me look at you.' Mrs Kowalski was a woman of ample girth, but had affection in equal abundance. Her smile practically split her face in two as she poked and prodded her son, tucking him in, tidying him up and generally making sure that he was presentable.

'Mom,' he complained.

'Now you listen here, young man,' she said. 'No son of mine is going out on a date without looking his very best.'

'But…'

'I wouldn't try to argue, son,' his father said around his pipe. 'I gave up talking back to your mother years ago.'

'That's because you know what's good for you, Stefan,' his wife said. 'Andrew, it would seem, still has a lot to learn, not least about making himself look presentable. Have you even run a comb through that hair of yours?'

'Mom, it's supposed to look like that,' Drew explained. 'It's style.'

'That is not style,' his mother informed him. 'That looks like hair that has been slept in.'

'Do you want me to go out with this girl or not?' Drew asked.

Reluctantly, his mother stepped aside and Drew kissed her quickly on one of her rosy cheeks.

'I don't know what I'd do without you, Mom,' he said.

She wagged a finger at him.

'Just you remember that, young man, and don't stay out late either.'

'I won't,' Drew called back insincerely as he stepped outside.

Janice was waiting for him.

'What's up?' he asked.

'Do I need a reason to come to see you?' Janice asked defensively. 'I thought we were friends. Don't friends do that sort of thing?'

'Well, yeah, of course,' Drew said. 'Have I done something to upset you? You seem a bit on edge.'

'I do? Well, I'm not.'

The conversation died and its corpse crawled away into the undergrowth.

Drew cleared his throat.

'So, what do you want to do?' Drew asked. 'I could give Chrissie a call and we could go over to the Bronze?'

'Why does everything have to be about Chrissie?' Janice snapped.

'It's not.' Drew was really confused now. Why was Jan being so hostile. 'I thought you wanted to do a friend thing. Well, Chrissie's our friend, right? Heck, she's my _girl_friend. Surely I'm allowed to invite her out.'

'I guess.' Janice curled her hair around her finger. 'Anyway, you can't phone Chrissie because she's gone to see Dawn.'

'To see Dawn?' Drew repeated. 'Is there trouble? Why didn't you say something?'

'Hey, it's no big,' Janice told him. 'I'm sure they can handle it.'

'I should be there for her,' Drew said.

'For who? Chrissie?' Janice scowled at him. 'What about me? Maybe I'm in trouble too.'

'Then you can tell me all about it on the way,' Drew said before striding away.

* * *

I was crouched down beside the body of Helena's father.

'Oh God, what have I done?' I whispered to myself. 'I can't find a pulse. Why can't I find a pulse?'

'Try his neck,' Tara said. 'Trust me, if he were dead then I'd know about it.'

Her ghostly hand guided mine and, sure enough, I could feel a weak pulse beating beneath my fingertips.

'Should I phone a hospital?' I asked Tara.

There were sounds of movement downstairs.

'Sam?' a voice called.

'Leave that to his wife,' Tara suggested. 'For now, you need to get out of here.'

I riffled through Helena's things and threw on some clothes. I pulled a pile of sweaters out of a drawer and the knife that had been hidden amongst them clattered to the floor. There was blood on it.

'It's hers,' Tara responded off my enquiring glance. 'Now get dressed. There'll be time for questions later.'

As I did so, I examined myself in the mirror. The marks where Helena's father had struck me were already fading away.

'What is she?' I breathed.

'Later,' Tara insisted, 'now hurry.'

I clambered out of the window and dropped to the ground. I landed in the rose bush and the thorns tore at my hands. I watched in awe as a gash in my thumb sealed itself back up.

'I could get used to this,' I said.

'You may have to,' Tara told me.

'What?'

'Would you really want to live Helena's life?' Tara asked me.

I glanced back up at the bedroom window and imagined I could see Helena's father within.

'Not for the world,' I replied. 'No wonder Helena's been trying to kill herself. I can't imagine what she must have been feeling, trying to end her life, but knowing her own body wouldn't let her.'

I paused, considering the implications of what I had just said.

'That's right,' Tara said. 'In your body, she might succeed. I just hope we're not already too late.'


	7. Helena

****

7. Helena

'I'm sorry, but Dawn isn't going to be able to go out tonight.'

Janice, in Chrissie's body, stood at the door of my house. My father blocked her entrance.

'But…'

'No buts,' Hank insisted. 'We are going to have a family meal this evening and Dawn is going to be here.'

'But it's a matter of life and death!' Janice protested.

'It always is with teenagers,' Hank replied. 'I remember being in your shoes myself.'

'But it is,' Janice said.

'In that case,' Hank began, 'why don't you tell me what's so important, hm?'

Janice stared blankly back at him. Somehow she didn't think 'My friend and I cast a spell, but it went wrong and somehow we swapped bodies' was going to wash here.

'Thought as much,' Hank said. 'Look, why don't you try again tomorrow?'

Janice opened her mouth to say something, though she had no idea what to say. Fortunately, Hank saved her the embarrassment by slamming the door in her face.

'Now what?' Janice muttered. She shivered again, partly because of the cold and the rain, but also because of the whole weirdness factor going round. Saying stuff with Chrissie's voice was just…wrong. That twang was so not here. And as for the nails…not for the first time this evening she wished that she had had time to remove the hideous black nail polish before she had gone out looking for Dawn.

And what a lot of good that had turned out to be. So, was she just going to stand about here waiting for Drew and Chrissie to turn up or…

Checking to make sure no one was watching, Janice scrambled round the side of the house. Then she picked up a handful of dirt from the flowerbed and hurled it at Dawn's bedroom window.

'Dawn,' she hissed, 'it's me.'

There was no answer so Janice stooped down and gathered up another handful of dirt. The earth was cold and clammy and muddy, but Janice comforted herself with the thought that it was not really her nails it was getting under.

She tensed ready to throw and then noticed Hank watching her from the kitchen window.

'I'll, um, just be going,' Janice mumbled before hurrying away.

Great, so Plan B was a bust too.

Where were Chrissie and Drew? What could be keeping them? Actually, she had a pretty good idea what was keeping them, but that was okay. They were in a relationship, after all, and, despite what Dawn might say, she was not jealous. Uh-uh. No way. Absolutely not. Okay, maybe just a little. But that was all. And besides, how could they? With her body? With. Her. Body.

That thought was just too unpleasant for words. Not that, you know, she hadn't thought about making out with Drew at one point, but that was all ancient history, not to mention the fact she had actually fantasised about being present when it happened.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that it took her a while to realise that she was not alone.

The stranger was leaning against a streetlight. He looked to be maybe a couple of years older than Janice and had a long face with a silver stud in one ear - Janice notice because it was scattering the orange light falling down from above - and red hair, cropped so close to his scalp as to be barely present at all. He was wearing baggy jeans, torn at the knee, and an extra-large black T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of some band Janice didn't recognise. And he had on a pair of wraparound shades that made his eyes stick out like a bug's.

His fingertips were pressed against his temples as if he were in pain.

'Are you okay?' Janice asked as she took a tentative step towards him.

'No,' he replied, flashing her a crooked smile, 'I'm not okay. But I will be. Do I know you?'

'I don't think so,' Janice replied.

'I do think so. Yes, I really do.'

His crooked smile had now been replaced by a hungry leer and Janice backed slowly away.

'I'm telling you,' she insisted, 'we've never met before.'

'Oh yes we have,' the man informed her. 'You make me sick, you know that?'

Janice was walking away at speed.

'Look,' she replied, gesturing vaguely at him, 'if we had met, I'd be sure to remember, right?'

'You don't recognise me?' The man shrugged. 'Maybe this will help.'

He whipped off his shades.

Janice screamed.

Where his eyes should have been there was only violet mist broken up by flashes of white lightning.

* * *

'Go on,' Anya prompted.

Xander started to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He could see Anya sizing him up, admiring his body. Only it wasn't his body. She was practically drooling over Trix. Well, maybe not drooling…hell, yeah, why not? Drooling.

Had he ever got that kind of reaction from her? They were going to get married at some point, surely that implied some kind of spark? But, try as he might, Xander could not recall eliciting the same reaction from Anya as his rival's body did now.

His rival? Xander mulled that over in his head. Trix wasn't really his rival. Xander had had his chance with Anya. Heck, he'd even given her his blessing to go with Trix. So why did he see Trix as competition? Did he still have feelings for Anya? More to the point, did he still have _those_ kind of feelings?

It was his turn to appraise her.

'I preferred your hair darker,' he blurted out.

'What?' Anya replied, running a hand self-consciously through her hair. 'That was the big thing you wanted to tell me? And what's wrong with my hair?'

'Nothing's wrong,' Xander amended hastily. 'It's just that it's more white than blonde now and I happen to prefer it the other way round. I think it suits you, you know, golden, like a crown.' He stepped closer. 'A crown for a princess.' He placed his hands on her shoulders, so soft beneath his palms, and whispered in her ear. 'Or a queen.'

'Flatterer,' Anya managed, her voice husky.

'God, I've missed you.'

Xander leaned into her, trapping her between his body and the kitchen counter. She wrapped herself around him like a warm velvet glove.

'Missed me?' she asked. 'You only left me a few hours ago.'

Xander ignored her. Instead, he cupped her face in one hand and lifted it up so that he could kiss her full on the lips.

'Have you any idea how good you taste?' he asked when they finally came up for air. 'Like cool spring water to a man dying of first, like oxygen to a drowning man, like…'

'Stop.' Anya placed a hand on his chest and tried to push him away, though she applied little by the way of strength.

'Why stop?' 

Xander began planting a line of soft kisses down the curve of her neck and Anya leaned into him, writhing in pleasure before catching herself and pulling away in embarrassment. 

'We both want this,' Xander continued.

He reached for her again, but Anya caught his wrist in her hand and held it in place.

'No,' she insisted. 'We can't.'

'Can't?' Xander echoed. He was sure she thought he was Trix, but if so then why wasn't she letting him get past first base? 'Why not?'

'Xander…'

What the…

There was a loud knock at the door and Anya tore herself away from Xander and ran to answer it. She flung the door wide open and looked down at her latest visitor.

'Xander!' she said in a voice filled with relief.

'Not exactly,' Trix replied.

* * *

Janice ran, grateful that she had swapped Chrissie's boots for some more comfortable trainers. They flapped around on her feet a bit (due to Chrissie's feet being abnormally tiny and definitely not because Janice's were big), but at least she could run in them. The hood of her coat had been thrown from her head in her flight and Chrissie's black hair had been plastered to her scalp by the rain. She had to keep brushing sodden strands out of her eyes. Maybe this was why Chrissie had those ridiculous goggles.

The man with the violet eyes was still following her. He had not yet broken into a run, but was somehow managing to keep pace with her.

'You're all the same,' he was saying. 'Liars and betrayers. You never really cared about Amy.'

Who's Amy?' Janice called back.

It was the wrong thing to say. The man raised his right hand and a bolt of lightning crackled from his fingertips. Janice dived to the side as the energy blast tore up the sidewalk. She collided with a trashcan, staggered, and ended up on her knees in a puddle as the hot earth fell back down on top of her.

Two can play at that game, she thought.

Narrowing her eyes, she splayed her fingers, pressed the tips of her thumps together and stretched her arms out in the direction of her pursuer.

__

'Quisquilius inimico iaciare!'

Nothing happened.

The man was getting closer.

'Who's Amy?' he repeated. He was laughing, but it was cold and without humour. 'You don't deserve to say her name. You're nothing, you hear me? Nothing!'

Janice blinked. There were two shadows, both female, floating behind the man.

Janice closed her eyes and started to slow her breathing, ignoring the smell of spilled garbage and the sensation of muddy water seeping through her jeans. In for four, out for four. In for four, out for four. She could feel the energy pooling at her feet and she imagined drawing it up out of the earth and into her body. She felt her third eye open up in the middle of her forehead, burning brightly with power.

Her other two eyes still closed, Janice climbed to her feet and pointed in the direction of her enemy. Then her eyes snapped open.

__

'Quisquilius inimico iaciare!' she declaimed.

Nothing happened.

Janice stared unbelieving at her hands. She could feel the energy inside of her. It was practically dripping from every pore in her skin. And yet…and yet she couldn't guide it, couldn't persuade it to do what she wanted. Not without Chrissie.

'Why did she have to die?' the man was saying. 'Why is it she died, but you get to live? It should have been you. It will be you.'

Lightning lashed downwards from the sky and struck the man at the crown of his head, lifting him off of his feet as the energy played about him.

'Your time has come,' he said as he waved his hands in Janice's direction.

'Help!' Janice screamed.

'Chrissie!'

Drew barrelled into the man, knocking him off of his feet. Electro-boy's head struck the kerb and he lay still.

'Janice?' Chrissie said tentatively as she approached. 'You're…well, you're glowing.'

'No, she's not,' Drew insisted as he got to his feet. Smoke was rising from his shirt where he had been burned by the lightning.

'Oh, she is so Flashlight-girl,' Chrissie retorted.

Janice understood. She could feel it. She was vibrating with all of that stored power.

'Take my hand,' she offered.

Slowly, the girls reached out to each other and when their fingertips touch it was like a wall had suddenly been knocked down and all that had been hidden behind it was free to invade. Energy flowed out of Janice and into Chrissie and her eyes opened wide as her skin trembled.

'Wow!' she breathed.

'Isn't it,' Janice replied, grinning.

'What is going on here?' Drew demanded.

The girls ignored him, beaming at one another, marvelling at the sight of their own bodies glowing with the golden radiance of the Mother Goddess. Then, slowly, they returned the energy to the earth from whence it came. They staggered apart, suddenly feeling vulnerable, mortal.

'Is somebody going to tell me what happened?' Drew persisted.

Chrissie's breath whistled through her teeth.

'Well, Janice and me…'

'Hang about,' Drew interrupted, 'did you call her Janice? But I thought…'

'Um…it's a long story,' Chrissie replied.

'We got body-swapped,' Janice explained.

'Obviously not that long,' Drew remarked. 'So all that stuff back at my place was what exactly?'

'Well…' Chrissie began, at a loss of where to go from there.

'Can we table this discussion for later?' Janice suggested. 'We have bigger - not to mention brighter - concerns right now.'

Electro-boy was getting back up.

* * *

Trix had always thought that all that guff about broken hearts was just plain silly. Sure, he prided himself on being a roguish love 'em and leave 'em type, but no one he ever went with expected any more from him. Relationships were fickle, transient things and to expect any more from them was idiotic.

Well, Trix had gone and broken his own rule and as his heart crumbled and the ache in his chest grew, he finally understood what a broken heart was all about.

The worst of it was how quiet it was. There should have been shouting from the rooftops, screaming and recriminations. Objects should be thrown and tears should be shed. Instead, all it had taken to collapse Trix's world was for Anya to stand next to him.

Only she didn't know it was him. She thought that she was standing beside Xander. She was not even touching him, and yet there was an intimacy there that he had never shared with her in his own body, not even in their most passionate embrace. And he knew then that no matter how the situation with Xander played out, even if Anya chose to stay with Trix for the rest of her life, she would never be his. Not completely. Not in the way that really mattered.

'You're a lucky guy,' he said to Xander, 'but do us both a favour and put some clothes on.'

Embarrassed, Xander grabbed the red shirt from where it was drying on the radiator and put it on.

'Xander?' Now Anya stepped away, uncertain, and, paradoxically, Trix was glad that the intimate moment had been broken.

'He hasn't told you, has he?' he said.

'Told me what?'

'I'm not Xander, I'm Trix,' Trix explained. 'He's Xander. Don't ask me how, but we've swapped bodies and I'm guessing someone's been trying to take advantage of that little detail.'

'You mean I…and he…' Anya stormed across the room and slapped Xander in the face. Hard.

'Hey!' Trix protested. 'I'd like to get my body back in one piece!'

* * *

'Grant?' Chrissie said.

'You know this weasel?' Janice asked her.

'I knew his girlfriend,' Chrissie explained.

'Past tense?' Drew queried as they backed away, never taking their eyes off of Grant.

'She's dead,' Chrissie told him.

'Let me guess,' Janice put in, 'she's this Amy he keeps going on about?'

Chrissie nodded.

'Amy Irving. She used to come over when the 'rents went out.'

'You mean she was a babysitter,' Janice deduced.

'Yeah, whatever,' Chrissie snapped back. 'She was at our house on the night she died. She had just left when some idiot hit her with a car.'

'Goddess,' Janice muttered.

'It's your fault,' Grant snarled, pointing at Janice. 'If she hadn't had to baby-sit you then she'd still be alive.'

'Hey, I'm not Chrissie,' Janice insisted. 'She's Chrissie.' She bit her lower lip. 'Um, I'm not helping, am I.'

'Not much,' Chrissie confirmed.

Grant looked sceptically from one girl to the other. Then he cocked his head to one side as if listening to something.

'Miss Edith says to keep it simple,' he told them, 'so I'll just kill you all.'

Drew glared at Janice.

'Definitely not helping.'

'Hey, Sparky!'

Grant turned and a coffee-coloured fist impacted with his face.

'Helena?' Janice said as I stepped out of the shadows.

'Not quite,' I replied.

'Dawn, then.' The others looked at Janice and she shrugged. 'Process of elimination.'

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the girl who looked like Chrissie.

'Janice?' I deduced.

'Good to know my character's more than just skin deep,' Janice said.

'Actually I was just thinking Chrissie wouldn't be caught dead in pink.'

'Got that right,' Chrissie agreed. 'I hope no one who knows me sees us out tonight.'

'You mean other than me,' Grant said.

'Everybody get behind me,' I ordered.

'But…'

'Just do it.'

Grant hurled his lightning and it struck me in the chest. And it hurt. I could feel my skin burning and blistering and it was agony. But, just as fast as the damage occurred, Helena's body repaired it and, mere seconds after the blast ceased, I was whole and healthy again.

I cracked my knuckles and grinned.

'My turn.'

I lunged at Grant, but I missed him. I wasn't used to this body. Helena was taller than me, her limbs were longer, and I had to keep reminding myself to compensate. It wasn't easy.

That was when Tara appeared.

'Hit me,' she said.

'What?'

'Trust me.'

So I did.

Of course, I underestimated the length of my arms and I overshot, my momentum carrying me straight through Tara…and into Grant.

Tara had positioned herself in front of Grant, calculating the distances so that my miscalculation would result in me impacting with Grant with maximum force.

My mouth fell open. Tara solidified a finger, put it under my jaw and snapped my mouth closed.

Then she winked at me.

'Shock later,' she said. 'For now, just hit me again.'

I did. And I did it again and again. Under Tara's instruction, I modified my moves, incorporating the lessons Buffy had taught me while Tara helped me to compensate for my unfamiliar frame. Soon Grant was lying bloodied and bruised on the sidewalk.

I paused, gathering my breath. 

'Wanna go another ten rounds?' I taunted.

Grant jumped to his feet and ran off down the street.

'There'll be other times,' he called out as he retreated.

I started after him, but Tara put a restraining hand on my arm.

'Not now,' she said. 'We have other priorities. Like getting your body back.'

'Not to mention saving Helena,' I pointed out.

'Who are you talking to?' Drew asked.

I kept forgetting no one else could see Tara.

'Doesn't matter,' I told him. 

'But….'

I held up a hand.

'No time,' I said. 'Now, do any of you know what's happened?'

'Um, well…' 

'It's my fault,' Chrissie said. 'I convinced Janice to do a spell with me and it went wrong.'

'You can say that again,' I muttered. 'Okay, I need you three to find Jonathan and Wesley. There'll know how to reverse this. I hope.'

'And what will you be doing?' Janice asked.

'I've got to go and find Helena.'

'Helena? Why?'

'You mean other than the fact she's me?' I asked. I began to bounce uncomfortably from foot to foot. 'I saw Helena's father. He…does things to her.'

'What kind of things?' Chrissie asked. 

Drew dug her in the ribs. She whirled to face him, a rebuke on her lips, but then she caught my meaning. 

'Oh,' was all she could say.

'Poor kid,' Drew added.

'No wonder she's so…' Janice trailed off. 'Well, you know.'

'You don't know the half of it,' I replied. 'I think she's trying to kill herself.'

'Why wait until now?' Drew asked.

There was a glass bottle on the ground. I picked it up and crushed it in my hand. I plucked the shards of glass out of the cuts on my palm and let my friends watched as the wounds closed before their eyes.

'Because she couldn't before,' I explained.

'Well what are you hanging around here for?' Janice demanded, the first to overcome her shock. 'Get after her.'

'We'll be fine,' Drew assured me.

I nodded and ran off.

'I'll go and find Jonathan,' Janice offered.

'I guess that means we're going to find Wesley.' Chrissie linked her arm with Drew. He extricated himself from her grip.

'Go with Jan,' he said.

'But…'

'I need to be alone for a bit,' he insisted before turning on his heel and walking away.

* * *

'Dawn!' Hank bellowed. 'Dinner's on the table.'

He turned to face Lydia who was already seated.

'What's up with that girl?' he asked.

'Read my lips,' Lydia replied. 'I. Don't. Care.'

'You don't even know her.'

'And I don't want to.'

'Just give her a chance,' Hank protested.

'Why?' Lydia planted her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. 'It's her fault we had to move out here in the first place. We were happy in Spain. _I_ was happy in Spain. I had friends out there.'

'You can make new friends her,' Hank assured her, 'if you'd just make a little effort.'

'I shouldn't have to make the effort.'

'You know why we had to come out here,' Hank replied. 'She's my daughter.'

'That didn't seem to bother you before,' Lydia remarked pointedly.

'I didn't know before,' Hank shot back. 'If I had, do you really think I wouldn't have moved heaven and hell to get back here. Do you think I don't blame myself for Buffy's death? Maybe if I'd been here…'

'Oh puh-lease,' Lydia mocked. 'Change the record already. Do you really expect anyone to believe you care? You walked out on them, remember. They were her kids, not yours.'

'That's not true,' Hank said. 'I may not have been the best dad in the world, but they were still my daughters. Dawn's all I've got left. Do you really expect me to throw all that away?'

'It's always Dawn with you these days, isn't it,' Lydia whined. 'Dawn this and Dawn that. What about us? What about _me_?'

'They'll always be an us,' Hank replied. 'I just want it to be an us that includes Dawn.'

'Then maybe you'd better tell her that.'

'Maybe I will.'

Hank turned and stalked upstairs. He knocked on my bedroom door.

'Dawn. I know you're in there.'

He knocked again, then flung the door wide open. 

The room was empty and the window was open. Rain was being carried inside by the wind, but Hank did not care about that. Instead, he turned and hurried downstairs.

'I'm going out,' he said as he opened the front door.

'But…'

'Later.'

The door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

Wesley opened the door.

Halfrek stepped into the apartment.

'I brought Thai,' she announced, waving the white carrying bag in her hand.

'It smells delicious,' Wesley replied, pushing the door closed, 'but what are you doing here?'

'Well, you know, honey, I was bored and I figured you would be too so I decided to come over and cheer you up.'

'I wasn't bored,' Wesley insisted. 'I was reading.'

'Reading.' Halfrek pursed her lips. 'And here I thought you were the rugged action-adventure type.'

'I'm supposed to be down here to work,' Wesley explained patiently. 'One of these books might hold the key to the mystery of Helena.'

'And you'd rather read about this Helena than share take-out with me?' Halfrek asked. 'No, you don't have to explain. I quire understand. I'll see myself out.'

'No, no wait,' Wesley said hurriedly. 'I didn't mean it like that.' He rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. 'Maybe I have been spending too much time on my work.'

'Maybe? How many times have you been out of this place since you got here?'

Wesley shook his head.

'Why don't you make yourself at home,' he began, 'and I'll go and see if I haven't got a bottle of wine somewhere that we can share.'

There was another knock at the door.

'What now?' Wesley sighed.

Drew was standing in the doorway.

'Hey, kid, did you swim here?' Halfrek asked, noting his bedraggled appearance.

'Are you Wesley?' Drew asked.

'I am,' Wesley replied. 'And you're one of Dawn's friends, aren't you? I take it you interrupting my evening because something's gone horribly wrong somewhere. I get that a lot.'

Hastily, Drew explained the situation. Wesley nodded thoughtfully. He picked up a couple of books.

'I think we should go and see Mr Levinson, don't you?' he suggested. 'Between us, we ought to be able to put this right.'

'And we can always stick this in the microwave later,' Halfrek said, indicating the take-away. 'You do have a microwave, don't you? Wait a sec…guy, living alone, course you do.'

Wesley shrugged into his coat and picked up his motorcycle helmet. Then he picked up the spare helmet.

'Ah,' he said. 'Halfrek, could you?'

'You don't think I was planning to go out in this weather, do you?' she tutted. 'See you there.'

She winked and then disappeared.

'Woah,' Drew said.

'Quite.' Wesley threw the spare helmet to Drew. 'Coming?' 

* * *

Ramsay Bridge was the best high-dive board in Sunnydale. The bleak iron structure, beams twisted together like the threads of a giant spider-web, spanned a gap high above the railway line. It was a favourite spot with jumpers. In the unlikely event that the fall didn't kill you, trains came under this bridge so fast that you wouldn't stand a chance. A quick death, if not necessarily a painless one.

Like a fly, Helena was caught amongst the bridge's supports. Unlike a fly, she was there of her own free will.

'Helena,' I called over the sound of the storm, 'it's me. Dawn.'

'Go away,' Helena shouted back. 'Leave me alone.'

Was that what I sounded like? Was I really that whiny?

'Why don't you come back up here and we can talk about this,' I shouted.

'There's nothing to talk about!'

'Like hell there isn't,' I muttered. 'I'm coming down!'

I eased my way out on to the first beam. The rainwater made it slippery and I could only move along an inch at a time. Maybe I was invulnerable in this body, but the ground still looked an awfully long way down. Helena's black hair was plastered to my scalp and I was glad that she wore it tied back, pulled out of her face. I had to keep blinking, though, every time the rain trickled into my eyes.

My foot slipped and I cried out in panic. All of a sudden I was only holding on by my fingertips. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. I wanted to pull myself back up, but I was frozen, my arms locked with terror.

I looked pleadingly at Helena.

She looked away.

'Helena,' I shouted, 'I'm stuck.'

She didn't turn, but I knew that she could hear me.

'Helena, I don't know how much longer I can hold on here. There's no one else about. You're the only one who can help me. Please!'

Helena turned to face me.

'I'm coming to get you,' she said. 'Just hang on a little longer.'

Planting her feet firmly, she began to clamber across the bridge, like a monkey in one of those wildlife documentaries. I wondered of she had done this before. Had she thrown herself off of here while in her own body? Had she bounced? If I were to let go now, would I bounce? Would I survive only to see Helena hurl herself after me? I gripped the beam all the tighter.

Then I felt cold skin against my wrist. Bracing herself against a beam, Helena gritted her teeth and began to haul me up.

'Can you find a foothold yet?' she gasped.

I scrabbled vainly, but finally I found purchased and levered myself up to join her. Slowly, hand in hand, we climbed upwards off of the bridge and then collapsed on to reassuringly solid ground.

'Thank you,' I finally managed.

Helena shrugged. 'I owed you,' she said. 'For that thing with Kirstie.'

'You don't owe me anything,' I replied. 'I was just trying to help you. Just like I'm trying to help you now.'

'You can help me by leaving me alone,' Helena snapped.

'Helena, suicide isn't the answer.'

'How would you know?' Helena snapped. 'You don't know what it's like.'

I spread my arms wide.

'I'm in your body,' I said. 'When we swapped, I turned up in your room. With your dad. You're right, I don't know what it's like for you, but I think I can guess.'

'Then you know why I have to do this,' she said. Was she crying or was that just the rain? 'I have to end this.'

'Yes,' I agreed. 'Yes you do. But not like this. You've suffered way too much already. You shouldn't have to die because of him as well. There are other ways.'

'Are there?' Helena asked. 'Say I do escape from him. Where do I go? How do I know it won't all start up again with somebody else.'

'Because we're not all like your dad.'

I reached out and touched the back of her hand. She snatched it away.

'I've seen how you get on with your own father,' she said.

'That is so different,' I insisted.

'Is it?' she said. 'The bullying. The orders. The threats. Do things his way or else. Or else what, Dawn?'

I paused. Seeing that fear etched into my own face was…well, frightening, I guess. I couldn't begin to imagine half of what she had been through. I thought I hated her father before when I found out about the beatings and the abuse, but to see how he had made her terrified of the entire human race…I wished I had hit him harder.

'Hank's a jerk,' I said. 'I won't deny it. But I guess he's not such a bad father, all told. Sure he likes his order and his discipline and his rules, but he just wants what's best for me. You know, I've never really thought about it before, but I guess he does love me after all, even if he does have a funny way of showing it. 

'Listen, Helena, the point is that maybe my dad's right and I do need boundaries, but there's a difference between setting boundaries and abuse. There's a line. Your dad crossed it and I don't know if we're ever going to be able to make things right again, but the fact is that he is in the minority here by a long way and the rest of us are more than willing to try and help you sort this out. Starting with me. 'So, what do you say? Why don't you come home with me and we can start over?'

She looked at me, her lower lip trembling. I offered her my hand, but not so close that I invaded her personal space and startled her. Helena raised her own hand and her palm hovered in the air above mine.

Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, loud enough to cause the ground to shake.

When my vision cleared, Helena was already racing away like a startled fawn.

* * *

'This had better be good,' Jonathan said as he let Janice and Chrissie in.

'It's not like you were doing anything important,' Chrissie countered.

'What happened to this place?' Janice wanted to know. 'Did we miss an earthquake in all of the confusion?'

'If I'd known you were coming I'd have tidied up a little,' Jonathan snapped.

'Hey, Janice, do you think she looks a bit like Dawn?' Chrissie asked, picking up one of the comics strewn across the floor.

'Hey! That's a rare first issue with variant cover and you're dripping all over it!' Jonathan snatched the comic away from her.

'Well sor-_ry_,' Chrissie muttered. 'Get a life why don't you.'

'Okay, that's it,' Jonathan shouted. 'Get out.'

'But we came here for your help,' Janice protested.

'I don't care,' Jonathan retorted. 'Get out of my home.'

'Make me, shortstuff,' Chrissie taunted, hands on her hips.

'Have it your way.' Jonathan pointed a finger at Chrissie. '_Purgamentum init, exit purgamentum._'

With a startled look on her face, Chrissie disappeared.

'What have you done to her?' Janice demanded.

Someone started hammering on the front door.

'I teleported her outside.' Jonathan shrugged. 'Read about that trick in a comicbook. It's amazing what you can pick up if you can be bothered.'

'Look, Jonathan, we really do need your help,' Janice pleaded.

'Haven't you been listening, Chrissie? It's late, I'm tired and the pair of you just turn up here and start insulting me. I. Don't. Care.'

'I'm not Chrissie,' Janice said.

'What?'

'A spell went wrong and we body-swapped,' Janice explained.

Jonathan was not quite quick enough to hide his smirk behind his hand.

'Well, that'll teach you to mess around with magic,' he said. 'I did warn you.'

'I know, and we're sorry,' Janice said, 'and if it was just us then I'd say we deserved it. But it isn't just us. It's Dawn, too. Even if you don't want to help us, at least help Dawn.'

'Oh, all right,' Jonathan conceded.

There was a crash. Chrissie stormed into the room.

'Just wait until I get my hands on that little toad.'

Janice barred her way.

'Leave him be,' she said. 'He's going to help.'

'Let me guess, some kind of Jedi code of ethics, is it?' Chrissie mocked. 'By the way, that was a really cheap lock.'

'Enough all ready,' Jonathan complained. 'I'll help you reverse the spell, but on one condition: the two of you are going to pay to repair that door.'

'Deal,' Janice agreed before Chrissie could open her mouth.

'Right. Now let's see what I've got in the way of books on this,' Jonathan murmured.

'Maybe these will help,' Wesley said. 'You should really get that door fixed, by the way.'

'Tell me about it,' Jonathan replied as he took the books from Wesley. 'Wow, I didn't know this was still in print.'

'It isn't,' Wesley told him.

'Then it's in remarkably good condition,' Jonathan remarked as he pawed lovingly over the pages. 'You really take care of your books, don't you?'

'I try.' Wesley beamed with pride.

'Where's Halfrek?' Drew asked as he struggled to remove his helmet. Chrissie offered to help, but he pushed her away. 'I'm fine!' he snapped.

'That's a point,' Wesley mused. 'She was supposed to teleport straight over.'

'Here I am, sweetie,' Halfrek said as she popped into view. 'Bumped into an old friend of mine on the way over. Boy did she have some stories. That one about the goat-herder and the pickled onions would make your hair curl. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at an onion the same way again. You see, what he did was…'

'I'm really not sure we have time for that right now,' Wesley interrupted.

'Right, sorry,' Halfrek said. 'So, what do we do?'

* * *

Helena ran. She did not know what she was running to, but she knew what she was running from. Would there be something different over the horizon. She doubted it, but she knew for certain what things were like here and she was not going to stay a moment longer.

A car drew up along side her.

'Hey, hold on a minute,' Hank called.

Helena stopped, responding to the voice of authority.

Hank opened the car door and stepped out on to the sidewalk.

'Where do you think you're going, young lady?' Hank demanded.

Helena did not answer.

'Fine, have it your way,' Hank said darkly. 'Now get in the car.'

Helena did not move.

'I said, get in the car,' Hank repeated.

Reluctantly, Helena opened the rear door and slid inside. Hank closed the door firmly behind her. Then he returned to the driver's seat.

'Now, we are going to go home and you are going to apologise to Lydia,' he said. 'Then we are going to have that family meal and maybe afterwards you'd like to tell me what the hell's going on.'

* * *

'What the hell's going on?' Chrissie asked.

She was kneeling next to Janice in the centre of the room. Wesley and Jonathan were trying to draw a circle of symbols around them, but the carpet was not taking the chalk very well.

'It's really very simple,' Wesley explained. 'You and Chrissie…sorry, you and _Janice_ are going to cast a reversal spell.'

'We are?' Janice said. 'Why can't you do it.'

'Neither Wesley and I have that kind power,' Jonathan explained. 'But you do, at least together. I've only ever seen one witch with more raw power than the two of you share.'

'Now might not be a great time to bring that up,' Halfrek pointed out.

Wesley's cell-phone rang.

'Hello…Anya, is that you?…Xander and Trix, eh?…No, no, keep them where they are. We're taking care of it…You mean you and Xander? In Trix's body? Well, I really don't know what to say…'

Wesley held the phone away from his ear as Anya continued to rant.

'Um, Hallie, perhaps you could…'

'Give it here,' Halfrek said, snatching the phone away.

'Hi, honey,' she began. 'Why don't you tell me all about it?'

'Are we all set?' Wesley asked.

'Nearly,' Jonathan replied as he lit the candles.

'Now remember,' Wesley told the girls,' all you have to do is read from the passage that I've marked. Try and relax and the magic should flow through you.'

'Easy for you to say,' Chrissie muttered.

'We ready, Mr Pryce,' Janice told him.

'That's Wyndham-Pryce,' Wesley corrected 'but you can call me Wesley.'

'I don't know what you're complaining about, sister,' Halfrek was saying. 'You've got two handsome men fighting over you. Personally, I'd kill just to get one man to notice me.'

Wesley turned, sensing Halfrek watching him.

'I'm sorry, did I miss something?' he asked.

'Nothing, honey,' Halfrek assured him. 'Nothing at all.'

'Right then.' He cracked his knuckles. 'Let's begin.'

'Here goes nothing,' Janice said, tentatively offering her hand to Chrissie.

'You know you love this part,' Chrissie said as they entwined their fingers.

* * *

I was lost. By the time I had clambered to my feet, Helena was already out of sight, but I decided to try and follow her anyway. I had run off in the direction I thought that she had taken, but I still hadn't caught sight of her and now I had no idea where in town I was. I hadn't thought Sunnydale was that big a town, but I guess I didn't know it as well as I thought I did.

'Helena.'

At first, I ignored the shout. Then I realised they were calling me.

'Helena.'

I turned and saw Helena's father striding towards me.

'I'm very disappointed in you, Helena,' he said.

'Yeah, well I'm disappointed in you, too, 'Dad',' I retorted. I balled my hands into fists. He disgusted me and I was all ready to relieve some tension.

'Don't answer me back, child,' Helena's father snapped. 'You and I are going straight home and then we'll see about your punishment.'

He grabbed hold of my wrist.

I smiled and raised my other hand.

* * *

'That's it,' Wesley shouted over the chanting. 'Keep it up!'

The candles were flicking and there was an energy in the room that was causing everyone to break out in goosebumps.

Then the chanting stopped.

'What's happened?' Drew asked. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong,' Chrissie said as she opened her eyes - her _own_ eyes. 'I'm back.'

* * *

I brought my hand down and my palm slapped against the leather upholstery of Hank's car.

I looked down at my hand. Definitely mine. Definitely my body.

'Where am I?' I asked aloud.

'So that's your excuse, is it?' Hank asked. 'That it was all a dream?'

'No,' I said vaguely, 'I…'

A moment ago I had been confronting Helena's father. That meant that was what Helena was doing now. Would she stand up to him? No, even with her strength, she was too terrified of him to lift a finger in opposition. Which meant that she was going to let him take her home. For her 'punishment'.

'Dad, I need your help,' I said.

'I don't want to hear it, Dawn,' he replied. 'I've tried to be reasonable with you, but you keep throwing it back in my face.'

'Dad, _please_,' I protested.

Something in my voice must have got through to him because he stopped the car and turned in his seat so that he could look at me.

'Go on,' he said, 'but make it quick.'

'It's one of my friends,' I said. 'Her dad's been abusing her. I know he beats her. I think maybe he abuses her, well, sexually as well.'

Hank's face paled and his lips narrowed.

'I was with her tonight, before you found me,' I continued. 'She was running away, but I think he's caught up with her. Dad, she's in danger.'

Hank paused. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. He wasn't buying it. He was going to take me straight home and abandon Helena to her fate.

'Are you sure about this, Dawn?' he asked.

'Yes,' I said firmly.

Hank nodded.

'Then get up front here and start giving me directions.'

* * *

Halfrek switched off Wesley's cell-phone.

'Well, Anya says Trix and Xander are back to normal,' she announced.

'Good,' Wesley said. 'That means Helena and Dawn are almost certainly back in their own bodies as well. Where is Dawn, by the way?'

'She went to find Helena,' Janice explained. 'She thought she might be, well, in danger.'

'In danger? How?' 

'She had this idea that Helena was going to try and kill herself,' Drew continued. 'Apparently, well, her dad's been, um…'

'What is wrong with you people?'' Chrissie declared, hands raised in exasperation. 'Will you stop pussyfooting around the subject.'

'Will someone please just tell me what is going on,' Wesley snapped.

'Helena's been abused by her father,' Chrissie explained, quietly.

The room was silent save for the gentle hum of Jonathan's PC.

Wesley's eyes were hard and cold.

'Why in God's name did nobody think to mention this sooner?' he asked, voice quivering with barely controlled fury.

He snatched back his phone and began violently punching in numbers.

* * *

'Find a payphone and call the police,' Hank instructed me.

We were parked in front of Helena's home.

'There is no way you are going in there without me,' I retorted.

Hank sighed. 'I don't have time to argue with you.'

He got out of the car, marched up to the door and began hammering on it. A small bird-like woman opened the door fractionally and peered out.

'Mrs Joslin?' Hank asked.

'Yes,' she replied. 'What do you want?'

Someone cried out upstairs. Hank and I looked at one another.

'No time,' Hank muttered.

He gave the door a shove and it flew open, knocking Helena's mother backwards. Before she could react, both Hank and I were inside and bounding up the stairs. We burst into Helena's bedroom.

The shirt I had picked out and worn earlier was on the floor, torn nearly in two. Helena was lying on the bed, on her stomach. Her arms were above her head, held there by one of her father's massive hands as he knelt above her.

He turned to face us as we crossed the threshold and I recognised the hunger in his eyes.

'What are you doing here?' he demanded.

'That's funny,' Hank said without a trace of humour, 'I was about to ask you the same question.'

He grabbed Helena's father by his hair and dragged him off of the bed.

'Look after her,' Hank instructed me. 

I ran to Helena's side and began helping her into some clothes. Her father writhed on the ground like a serpent, but then leaped to his feet like some heavily muscled cat, maybe a panther.

'Get out of my house,' he snarled.

'Make me,' Hank replied, shifting his weight on to the balls of his feet.

Mr Joslin slammed his fist into my dad's face. Hank staggered backwards, blood streaming from his nose, then he fell to his knees. Helena's father kicked him savagely and Hank cried out in pain as he rolled over on to his side. Helena's dad kicked him again and again and I was sure that I heard something snapped. I ran across the room and began pounding on Mr Joslin's back with my fists, but he just batted me away like an annoying insect and continued his vicious attack on my father.

'Help us!' I begged Helena, but she just sat on the bed, knees tucked under her chin, eyes tightly shut, and rocked gently back and forth.

'Yes, I understand that you're upset,' Wesley was saying, 'but I really need to speak to Dawn…She's not there? Are you sure?'

Wesley held the phone away from his ear as another torrent of abuse came from the earpiece. He terminated the call.

'I take it she's sure,' Halfrek mused.

'Wherever Dawn is, she's not at home,' Wesley agreed.

'I found the Joslin's number is the phone book,' Janice said, bringing the fat volume over to where Wesley was sitting.

'Thank you, Janice,' he said as he punched in the new number. 'Hello, is that Mrs Joslin?…Mrs Joslin, I was wondering if it might be possible to speak with your daughter, Helena?…She's not in? How about your husband?…He's not in either.' There was a loud crash at the other end of the line. 'Mrs Joslin, what was that? Mrs Joslin?' Wesley put the phone down. 'She hung up.'

'So what now?' Chrissie asked.

Wesley got to his feet and began pacing.

'I need to get over there, 'he said. 'Dammit! I'm never going to get there in time. Unless…'

He looked at Halfrek.

'No way,' she said.

'Hallie, please.'

'It only works for one person,' she insisted.

'You could at least try,' Wesley persisted.

'You don't know what that could do to me.'

'Hallie, a girl is in danger,' Wesley persisted. 'I thought that sort of thing was important to you. Guess I was wrong.'

'Don't you dare,' Halfrek snapped back. 'Don't you dare try to guilt-trip me.'

'If that girl ends up dead by the morning I won't have to,' Wesley shouted back.

Halfrek turned away, hugging herself.

'Okay, I'll _try_,' she agreed softly.

Wesley threw his phone to Drew. 

'Call the police. Let them know what's going on.'

He stood close to Halfrek and put his hands on her shoulders.

'Let's do it,' he whispered.

'Before we go, there's something I want to say,' Halfrek murmured. 'I think…I think maybe I'm falling in love with you, Wes. I just thought you ought to know in case…'

She turned away, her lower lip trembling. Wesley put his hand against her cheek and forced her to look at him.

'Halfrek, I'm sorry,' he said. 'I shouldn't be making you do this. We'll find another way.'

'Too late,' she replied.

Then they disappeared and all that remained was Halfrek's agonised scream.

* * *

'Leave him alone!' I screamed.

Helena's father ignored me. Or maybe he was so out of it he didn't even hear me. He was like a wild animal, tearing into Hank with a savagery that was unreal. I looked around frantically for a weapon, spotted a lamp standing on Helena's bedside cabinet, picked it up and smashed it across her father's head.

He turned to face me. His eyes were bloodshot and his lips were pulled back, baring his teeth. He clamped a hand around my throat and lifted me up of off the ground. I clawed at his hand with my fingertips but I couldn't break his grip and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

'You enjoy picking on little girls, don't you,' Wesley said. 

He was standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. He looked drawn and tired, but there was a determined set to his jaw.

'Put the girl down,' he said.

'Make me,' Helena's father growled back.

'I said, put the girl down!' Wesley commanded.

He dropped me and I drew air back into my lungs in great gasps.

'Better?' he asked Wesley.

'Is it discipline, is that what you tell them?' Wesley asked. 'That it's all in their best interests?'

'What would you know about it?' Helena's father mocked.

'More than you might think, Mr Joslin,' Wesley replied. 'I've made it my life's work to hunt down monsters. I'd be more than happy to add you to that list.'

'You're welcome to try,' Mr Joslin replied. 'This is my house. The people here must obey my rules.'

'Or suffer the consequences?' Wesley asked. 'I don't think so.'

'There has to be order,' Mr Joslin retorted.

'Order?' Wesley retorted. 'Is that what you call it? I call it deliberate cruelty. How can you stand there and tell me that torturing your own child is for her own good?'

'Because…'

'Because, because, because,' Wesley taunted. 'Just listen to yourself. That's not a reason, that's an excuse.'

Helena's father hit him.

Wesley steadied himself against the doorframe, blood trickling from his split lip.

'Not used to having someone stand up to you, are you?' he said.

Helena's father punched him in the stomach and Wesley doubled up, choking.

'You think if you keep hitting me that I'll eventually see things your way?' he wheezed. 'That might makes right? Not bloody likely.'

Helena's father grabbed Wesley's left arm and twisted it behind his back. Wesley's face contorted as he struggled to keep himself from screaming as the bone snapped.

'You want me to say uncle, is that it?' he continued. 'No bloody way. Do you hear me? No bloody way. You can't make people do what you want. You can't set yourself above them by simply being tougher than they are. No matter what you do, I'm going to keep saying no because, to put it bluntly, what you're doing is evil, plain and simple. I defy you and I don't think I'm the only one.'

'Let him go,' Helena said.

'Helena?' Mr Joslin said.

'I won't let you hurt him,' she said. She stood in the centre of the room rigid as a poker, but she did not back down.

'Helena, sit back down,' her father ordered. 'I will deal with you later.'

'No,' Helena said. Her voice was so weak that I almost didn't hear her the first time, but then she repeated it, this time with more weight, more confidence, more certainty. 'I said no.'

'What?' Helena's father roared.

'I won't let you hurt anyone else, Dad,' Helena continued, 'and I won't do what you want. Not now. Not ever again.'

Mr Joslin looked at his daughter and his face melted as all his rage fell away. He collapsed to the ground, curling up in a ball, body wracked by sobs. 

I crawled over to Wesley. I could hear police sirens outside and the sound of cars pulling into the driveway.

'It's going to be okay now,' I whispered to him. 'Everything's going to be okay.'

'No,' Wesley said softly, 'I really don't believe it is.'

I followed the line of Wesley's gaze out on to the landing where Halfrek lay, twisted and unmoving.

* * *

'How is he?' Wesley asked.

We were in the hospital waiting room. He had just returned from having a cast put on his arm.

'They say he'll be fine,' I replied, shuffling up so that he could sit down next to me, 'but they want to keep him in overnight for observation, just in case there's any internal bleeding they haven't picked up on.'

'Where's Lydia?'

I managed a humourless smile.

'Lydia is at home in bed,' I explained. 'She blames Hank and me for ruining her evening.'

'At least he has you to keep an eye on him,' Wesley pointed out.

'You know, it's funny,' I began, 'but until today I didn't know I cared. I've spent so much time hating what he represents that I never stopped to give him a chance.'

'That's hardly your fault,' Wesley sympathised.

'Maybe,' I conceded, 'but I think maybe I've misjudged him. When we were in the car tonight and I told him about Helena, I really thought he was going to ignore me. I'd have deserved it. But all he did was ask me if I was sure. After everything, even after all the things I've done, all the things I've said, he was still willing to trust me. That meant a lot, you know.'

'Maybe you should be telling this to him and not me,' Wesley suggested.

'Maybe I will,' I replied. 'How's Halfrek?'

Wesley smiled.

'She's going to be fine,' he replied. 'Guess vengeance demons are a lot tougher than they look.'

'You care about her a lot, don't you?' I deduced.

'Yes,' Wesley said, 'I do.'

'Wesley?'

'Yes?'

'Answer me one question,' I said. 'Why did you come rushing over to help Helena tonight? I mean, not that I'm saying you wouldn't want to help out, but, the way I understand it, you and Halfrek both risked your lives for someone you hardly knew.'

Wesley looked away.

'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I don't mean to pry.'

'No, it's okay,' Wesley said. 'It's complicated, but basically when I was a boy, my father used to shut me up in the cupboard under the stairs. It was his way of disciplining me, leaving me alone in the dark. With the spiders. I still remember the spiders. I could feel them crawling over my face and no matter how hard I brushed them away I could still feel them. I guess this all seems so trivial compared to what Helena's been through.'

'No,' I told him, 'it doesn't.'

'My one regret is that I never stood up to my father,' Wesley continued. 'Don't get me wrong, I think discipline is important for children and maybe they don't get as much nowadays as perhaps they should, but there's a line you shouldn't cross and my father crossed it, but no one had the balls to tell him so. I can't help wondering how my life might have turned out under different circumstances.'

'I'm sorry,' I said.

'Don't be,' Wesley replied. 'For better for worse, I am who I am and I'm content enough with where I am now.

'Anyway, I think you've more than proved your capable of handling things here without my supervision so, as per our deal, I'll be getting out of your hair and heading back to L.A.'

'Do you have to?' I asked. 'I mean, we still haven't worked out exactly what's going on with Helena.'

'I suppose, Wesley admitted.

'And besides, I think I'd like you to stick around for a bit,' I continued. 'We haven't really had a chance to talk since you arrived and it would be a shame if you had to go before we got to know each other.'

'That it would,' Wesley agreed. 'So I guess that means I'll be sticking around after all.'

I grinned back at him.

'I guess it does.'

Someone coughed behind me. I turned and saw Tara standing at my shoulder.

'Could I have a word, Dawn?' she asked. 'In private?'

'Excuse me,' I said to Wesley.

I followed Tara to a quiet corner of the hospital.

'So, what's the big secret?' I asked.

'I brought someone to meet you,' she replied.

Another spirit shimmered into view.

'Hello,' she said, extending a hand for me to shake, 'I'm Alicia Joslin. Helena's sister.'

'I didn't even know she had a sister,' I confessed as I shook the ghost's hand.

'It was a long time ago,' Alicia explained. 'A very long time ago. I just wanted to thank you. Before Helena, my daddy used to do the same to me, till I took the easy way out, that is.' She turned her hands so that I could see the scars on her wrists. 'Guess that's where baby sis got the idea. Thank you for showing her there was another way. It's nice to know there's someone looking out for her.'

'I just wanted to help,' I explained.

Alicia nodded.

'You're good people, Dawn,' she said. 'Don't let anybody tell you different.'

* * *

Anya sat in the middle of the couch. Though there was room either side of her, Trix stood. Xander sat in his wheelchair on the far side of the room.

'How could you, Xander?' Anya asked.

'Because I love you,' he replied. 'I love you so hard that it makes me do crazy things. I didn't think I stood a chance with you anymore so when an opportunity was handed to me on a plate…It was stupid and wrong, but I only did it because I'm so in love with you that I can't think straight.'

'You lied to me, Xander,' Anya said. 'You lied to me before, when you said you wanted to get married, but I was just starting to think that maybe we could get past that, that maybe we could start over. But now you go and lie to me again. I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to trust you, Xander.'

'Then that's a shame,' Xander replied, 'because I'm leaving Sunnydale. And I was going to ask you to come with me.'


	8. Zauriel

**8. Zauriel**

Mrs Clemens' house was on Wigmore Street. It was a pretty little building, but I wasn't sure about the yellow exterior. Was it warm and bright and cheery or was it just a big lemon plonked down on the side of the road. Of course, my opinion didn't really matter that much because I wasn't the one who was going to have to live here. That was Helena's fate, at least temporarily.

Mrs Clemens and her husband ran a group foster home. They were currently looking after five girls, ranging in age from twelve to seventeen. Each one had had to be removed from her family and the thought of that made me think of the father I still had, who was waiting in the car outside. I had misjudged Hank or, more accurately, I hadn't even tried to find out who he really was. I had formed my opinions of him based on his absence and had not been interested in changing them once he came back into my life. Until now.

But that was a matter for later. For now, there was someone else I wanted to talk to.

Helena's room was actually the attic. Light streamed in through the skylight, which, since it was a nice day (a welcome change from the recent storms), was ajar. The wallpaper in the room was decorated with elephants and monkeys and the two beds had matching teddy bear duvets. It all looked a bit babyish, but it also looked safe.

Helena shared the room with Ruth, a girl with pink hair who was slightly older than I was, but whose height and slight frame made her appear younger. She was helping Helena to unpack. Helena had not brought much stuff with her. Two cardboard boxes hardly seemed enough for a life, but there was a lot that Helena had decided that she wanted to leave behind.

'I'm not interrupting, am I?' I asked as I stuck my head around the door.

'Hell no,' Ruth replied. 'Just promise me you're not going to set up camp in here as well.'

'Not planning to,' I replied.

'I'm not imposing, am I?' Helena asked hastily. 'I mean, if you don't want to share maybe we could speak to Mrs Clemens and'

'Hey, slow down there, girl,' Ruth said. 'Who's been telling you you're not welcome? 'Sides, it's not as if I usually get this room to myself. Before you, there was Shelly. She was a cute little kid. They found a good couple to adopt her, too, but then it's always easier with the young ones. Anyway, it'll be good to share with someone my own age for a change. We can talk about girl stuff, right, 'Lena?'

She made as if to nudge Helena in the ribs, but didn't quite make contact.

'Anyway, I'll leave you two to catch up,' she continued. 'I'll be just downstairs if you need me.'

This last was directed more at Helena than at me.

'So, what do you think of the place?' I asked, plonking myself down on the edge of Ruth's bed.

'It'snice,' Helena said at last. 'Everyone seems so friendly.'

'You say that like it's a bad thing.'

'No, no it's not that,' Helena explained. 'It's just a bit overwhelming, that's all. I'm not used to it.'

'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I could have been there for you.'

'You were there for me in the end,' Helena replied. It was meant to be comforting.

'Not when it counted,' I said. I was still carrying around a lot of anger. Most of it was directed at Helena's father, but, in his absence, there was a sizeable amount mixed in with the guilt directed at myself. 

Helena shook her head.

'I wanted to kill myself,' Helena said, 'but you stopped me. All I wanted was to end it. There was a time before Christmas when I thought I'd succeeded. I was lying in the bath and II slit my wrists. I watched my blood mixing with the bath water and I thought that I was finally going to get away.'

'I thought you, well, that you healed almost instantly,' I said.

'That was the first time,' Helena replied. 'I woke up in the woods without a mark on me. What's happening to me, Dawn?'

'I don't know,' I admitted honestly, 'but I have a friend who could look into it, if you want him to.'

Helena nodded.

'So when did this start happening?' I asked. 'The healing, I mean.'

'Must have been late November some time,' Helena mused.

My breath caught.

'Can you remember when _exactly_,' I pressed.

Helena thought for a moment. Then she told me the exact date and my heart started pounding within my chest.

I decided to change the subject.

'Listen, Janice and the otherswell, we were wondering if you'd like to come down to the Bronze with us one night?'

'I don't know,' Helena said hesitantly.

'I understand,' I said. I reached out to her and she instinctively flinched away. Clearly, I didn't understand at all. 

'There's no rush,' I added, 'but we'd really like to see you. You could bring Ruth.'

'Maybe,' Helena said. It was a start.

'Janice wanted to come and see you,' I said, 'but she wasn't sure she'd be welcome. She's said some stuff that she didn't really mean, but she feels really guilty about it. Believe me. Would it, well, would it be okay if I brought her with me next time.'

'I'd like that,' Helena replied after a pause. 'What's past is past. I just want to start over.'

* * *

Janice was, if anything, taking the whole Helena sitch even worse than I was. Which was odd because, okay, I know she had said some pretty hurtful things, but on a scale of 1 to 10, Janice probably qualified as a minus-fifty or so compared to what else Helena had been going through.

Not that that made Janice feel any better about herself, though.

It didn't help that Janice was really getting into the whole Wicca deal, not so much the magic, like Chrissie, but more the whole philosophy behind it. Which meant that not only was Janice feeling a heel for the way she had treated Helena, but, because if the threefold rule, she was also constantly looking over her metaphorical shoulder while waiting for some kind of divine retribution. And in the meantime, Janice was trying to head that retribution off at the pass by amassing enough good deeds for repayment.

Which was why she was driving her sister up the wall.

Janice's sister was a lawyer in San Francisco and Janice had asked her to look into Helena's case. I say asked, but begged, grovelled and pleaded would work just as well. Turned out that Janice's sister had old friend from law school who now worked in Sunnydale. Small world. Said friend had agreed to keep us updated on the progress of the case.

How that was going to help Helena, I didn't know, but it made it easier for me to sleep at night.

* * *

Sleeping was becoming an increasing problem. My brush with abuse had turned it into something of a cause for me and I was spending way too much time looking into the subject. Not only were the cases pretty grim reading in and of themselves, but I was having a hard time switching off from the subject. I would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling while my mind turned over the information in my head again and again and again. And if I did happen to snatch a few hours sleepwell, then there were the nightmares.

Since Buffy's death, I had been trying to keep up on the patrolling. It wasn't easy without super powers and you only had to look at the obits to see just what a lousy job I was doing. But that didn't mean I was going to stop trying. The rest of the gang all took turns helping me out - even Drew, though that was mainly to keep an eye on Chrissie - but I was the only one who was out there practically every night. Until recently.

I couldn't keep on burning the candle at both ends like this and the gang would have had to have been deaf and blind not to have noticed. Wesley had insisted that I take a break from patrol and it's an indication of just how twisted up I was inside that I didn't even try to argue with him. He agreed to take over the patrols personally and I agreed to try and get some more early nights. Emphasis on try.

It was a Tuesday night when I woke up screaming. I was shaking. The bedroom light snapped on and, momentarily dazzled, all I could make out was the figure standing in the doorway. Terrified, I rolled off of the bed and huddled in the corner of the room, my sheet wrapped tightly around me.

'Dawn, honey, what is it? What's wrong?'

My eyes still hadn't focussed, but I recognised the voice. It was my dad. I relaxed, but only slightly.

'II had a bad dream,' I managed.

'What about?' he asked.

I looked up at him and he understood. He knelt down beside me and engulfed me in his powerful arms. I leant my head against his shoulder and cried until I had nothing more to give.

When I had quietened down, Hank tilted my head so that he could look at me.

'You okay?' he asked.

The correct answer was no, but I said yes anyway. I'm pretty sure he knew what I meant.

'Let's go downstairs and I'll fix you something to drink,' he said and, taking me by the hand, he lifted me up and we walked out on to the landing.

Lydia was standing in the doorway of the room she shared with Dad. The room that had been Mom's room.

'Well?' she prompted.

'Dawn had a bad dream,' Hank informed her. 'That's all.'

Lydia grunted, turned and stalked back into the bedroom without another word.

We walked downstairs hand in hand. It didn't occur to me until I sat down at the kitchen table that the physical contact would normally have bothered me. Now, I wondered what I was worrying about. Dad filled the kettle and switched it on.

'Cocoa?' he asked as he filled the mugs.

I nodded. 'Please.'

He set a steaming mug down in front of me. It was white with blue pictures of elephants squirting water. I sat and stared at it.

'Is it okay?' Dad asked. 'I can get you another one of you'd rather.'

'No, it's fine,' I said hastily. 'It's just I haven't used this mug in a while.'

'Oh,' he said.

'It's one you bought me, isn't it?' I asked him.

'It used to be your favourite,' Dad told me.

'I can see why,' I said, examining the mug. 'I'm surprised you remember it, though.'

Dad shrugged. 'You really think I'd want to forget anything about you?'

'I thought maybe'

'Maybe?'

'Maybe that's why you left,' I said at last. 'And why you never came back.'

'Don't say that,' Dad said, with force though not with anger. 'Don't even think it. I left because your mother and I drifted apart. We weren't the people we'd married anymore and, while we could still be friends after a fashion, we couldn't make it work as a couple. God knows we tried, though.

'Leaving you and Buffy behind was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. But it was the right one. It wasn't fair for your mom and me to force our problems on to you and the divorce was the best way of handling a hopeless situation. But don't you ever, ever believe that you or your sister had anything to do with that. It was a problem between your mother and me and you just got caught in the crossfire.'

'But,' I began, 'but after Mom died you could have come back, couldn't you?'

I was staring into my hot chocolate, trying not to look at him.

'You blame me for not being at your mother's funeral, don't you?' Dad said. 'That's why you arranged things so that I couldn't be at Buffy's. No, it's okay. I understand. I won't pretend it didn't hurt, but I understand. I beat myself up over not being there for Joyce, too. 

'If I'd known she was ill then nothing in the world would have stopped me being at her side, but what you have to understand, Dawn, is that your mother didn't want me to know. She knew where to find me - we agreed on that in case something happened to you - but she chose to keep me in the dark. And by the time anyone got in touch with me to tell me what had happened, well, things had moved on. I thought about coming back, but Buffy told me you were coping and I guessed that if you'd just got your lives back together then you didn't want me turning up to upset the apple cart.'

'Buffy said we were _coping_?' I repeated.

'Yes,' Dad continued. 'Maybe she stretched the truth a bit, but how was I to know that. I think Buffy blamed me for not being there for Joyce and she'd decided to demonise me. It was easier to blame me, I guess, than to hold Joyce responsible.'

'You're blaming Mom now?'

'No, no, I'm not,' Dad insisted. 'Maybe I think your mother should have contacted me when she got sick, but she chose not to and that was her decision to make. The problem with the real world, Dawn, is that every so often there are clear heroes and villains, but most of the time we're just a bunch of ordinary, fallible people trying to live our lives and making a complete mess of it. And that's probably the only thing I can teach you as a father.'

'Gee, thanks, _Dad_.' The last word was heavy with sarcasm, but I was becoming much more comfortable with it. I shook my head. 'Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner? I've been treating you like dirt just because I didn't know.'

'Would you have believed me?' Dad asked.

'I guess not,' I conceded. 'I've been a jerk, haven't I.'

'We both have,' Dad told me. 'That's what families do.'

* * *

Like I said, I was supposed to be trying to get some early nights, but tonight I was still up and about. I was not out patrolling, though. Instead, I was over at Wesley's apartment briefing the rest of the gang on what I had learned. Well, I was briefing those members of the gang that were there.

Chrissie and Drew had arranged to go on a date, but Chrissie was keen to change her plans when she heard we would be discussing supernatural stuff. Drew was less keen, though he was prepared to go if he was needed. Truthfully, this date was important to him. He was still unsure on how he felt about Chrissie trying to get him to cheat on her with her (though admittedly in another body). I'd be confused too. The idea was that if they spent some alone time together then they might be able to work things out between them. That was more important than any Scooby stuff, so the meeting was going ahead without them.

That meant that the Scrappies were represented by Janice and me. Oh and Clem. He may seem a bit old to be part of the junior squad, but he was much more one of us than one of them. 

Speaking of them, they were Wesley, Halfrek, Anya and Xander. No one knew where Trix was, but this wasn't the army and if he had better things to do then that was his choice.

I had just dropped my bombshell. Helena had become superwoman at the exact same moment Buffy had died.

'So you think there might be a connection,' Wesley deduced.

'Well, duh,' I replied. 'Isn't that kind of obvious.'

'Coincidences do happen,' Wesley pointed out.

'And in at least two dimensions pigs fly,' Anya retorted. 'Doesn't mean you're likely to see one.'

'You don't think' Xander began.

'Think what?' I asked.

'Well, she might be Buffy,' he said.

'Buffy's dead.' The words were cold and final. That was how I intended them to be.

'Butbut what if she isn't?'

'I was there, Xander. I held her in my arms. She died. For good this time.'

'It's not like she hasn't cheated death before,' Xander persisted. 'Why is it so hard to believe this time?'

'Well, basically because it's not very likely,' Wesley replied, massaging his temples. 'I agree with Dawn that this is unlikely to be a coincidence, but the chances of Buffy's spirit being involved are'

'Non-existent,' I said. 'Trust me.'

Xander opened his mouth to say something, but Halfrek shushed him.

'We do, honey, we do,' she said.

'Which still leaves the question of what exactly is going on,' Wesley pointed out.

'And that means hitting the books, right?' I asked.

'Right,' Wesley confirmed. 'Do you and your friends feel up to a little after school work?'

'If it'll help Helena,' Janice answered for me.

'Then I'll see you all tomorrow then.'

* * *

'I don't understand you, Chris,' Drew said.

They were sitting at a table in the Bronze. There was a woman on the stage, sitting on a stool and holding a guitar. She was really pretty good, but Drew was not interested in the music.

'It's like you wanted me to cheat on you,' he continued.

'Yeah, obviously that's what I want,' Chrissie muttered.

'Then what was the point?' Drew asked. 'Why try and make me think Janice was hitting on me? Do you really think I'm that shallow.'

'Oh, like you don't have feelings for her.'

'Of course I have feelings for her,' Drew snapped. 'We've been friends since before I can remember, but there has never been anything romantic between us.'

'And I'm just supposed to believe that, am I?' Chrissie demanded.

'Believe what you like.' Frustrated, Drew got to his feet and walked away.

Chrissie swore under her breath and hurried after him.

'Drew, wait up,' she shouted as he stepped outside into the cool night air.

'What's the point?' he asked, though he did stop. 'You don't trust me, Chrissie. What kind of relationship do we have if you don't trust me?'

'Look, I'm sorry, okay,' Chrissie said.

'Sorry?'

'What do you want me to do?' Chrissie asked. 'Beg? Okay, then I'm begging you. I was really, really stupid. I was jealous.'

'And you had no reason to be,' Drew pointed out.

'I know that _now_,' Chrissie replied. 'But no matter how stupid I may have been, I don't regret it. Because I learned something really important and do you know what that is?'

Drew shook his head.

'That I'm the luckiest girl alive,' Chrissie told him. 'Now shut up and kiss me, you big lug.'

'Aw, isn't that sweet,' Grant Renfield mocked. 'Wouldn't it be a shame if someone spoiled your little teen romance, say, by killing your girlfriend?'

'Leave her alone,' Drew said, stepping in front of Chrissie.

'Shut your face,' Grant retorted. He raised a finger and a lightning bolt struck Drew in the chest, hurling him backwards.

'Drew!' Chrissie screamed.

'Hurts, doesn't it,' Grant said, 'seeing someone you love hurt. But don't worry. Soon you won't feel anything ever again.'

His eyes flashed with purple flame.

Then they went dark and Grant fell face first into the sidewalk.

Trix was standing behind him holding a length of pipe in both hands.

'Now that felt good,' the demon remarked.

'Trix?' Chrissie said.

'What are you doing here?' Drew asked as he struggled to his feet.

'Keeping an eye on you two,' Trix replied. 'I figured Sparky here would have another crack at you.'

'We owe you,' Drew said.

Trix shook his head.

'You've got it backwards,' he replied. 'When we first met, you could have run. You're just human. There's no shame in keeping out of fights between demons. But you stayed and tried to help and I owed you for that. This is just my way of clearing the slate before'

'Before what?' Chrissie asked.

'Doesn't matter,' Trix told her.

Then he dropped the pipe to the ground and walked away.

* * *

'How do you know it's not Buffy?' Janice asked.

We didn't live that far apart so we walked home together.

'I don't,' I admitted.

'But in there you said'

'I know what I said. I justlook, it's taken me long enough to get used to the fact that she might be gone. I don't need people raking it all up again.'

'But what if it needs to be raked up?' Janice asked quietly. 'What then?'

'I' I paused. Trust Janice to make a decent point. 

'Jan, there's something I've been meaning to tell you,' I continued. 'I can see dead people.'

'Really?' Janice said. 'No way.'

'Yes way,' I replied.

'What, like Haley Joel Osment,' Janice said, 'the scary little kid who doesn't blink.'

'He blinks,' I said.

'Oh yeah?' Janice retorted. 'You watch him. There's something not quite natural about that kid.'

'He'd feel right at home here, then,' I pointed out.

'True,' Janice agreed. 'But how do you do it?'

'How should I know?' I replied. 'Maybe it's got something to do with me being the Key and all.'

'Yeah, I keep forgetting you're not real.'

I scowled.

'Why do these things keep happening to us?' Janice asked. 'Helena's got all those powers and Chrissie and I have got our magic and now you're seeing ghosts. What's going on with us?'

'I wish I knew, Jan,' I said. 'Tara said it had something to do with my destiny, but I couldn't really follow it.'

'Destiny?' Janice repeated. 'You mean that all of this has already been written and we're just acting out our parts in it? Next you'll be saying we're just actors in some lame TV show.'

'Like that would ever happen.'

Janice grinned, then became serious again.

'So, have you seen your sister, then?' she asked.

'No,' I admitted.

'Then how do you know she's really dead?' Janice asked. 'If you can see dead people then surely you could see her?'

'It doesn't work like that,' I protested. 'I don't exactly get to pick and choose who I get to see.'

'And doesn't that suck,' Janice said.

'Got that right,' I replied. 'Still, it's good to be able to see Tara again.'

'Your Wiccan friend?' 

'That's the one,' I replied. 'You'd like her.'

'I don't suppose you can make other people see ghosts too?' Janice asked. 'I'd like to meet her.'

'Sorry,' I said.

'Well, the least you can do is ask Tara to ask around after Buffy's spirit,' Janice suggested.

'I don't know'

'Hey, if she finds her, then that proves your idea that Helena isn't Buffy, right?'

'I guess,' I conceded. 'Okay, I'll ask, if you insist.'

'I do insist,' Janice said. 'And that kid so does not blink.'

* * *

'So?' Halfrek asked.

'So?' Wesley replied.

Everyone else had left the apartment. Wesley was collecting books and creating a pile of them on the table. Halfrek was hovering. Not literally, though. At least, I don't think so. She's a demon so I _guess_ she might be able to do that, after all.

'Well, aren't you going to say anything?' Halfrek asked.

'Oh, I'm sorry.' Wesley looked up from the books. 'Would you like something to drink?'

Halfrek released a long slow breath.

'That's not what I meant,' she said.

'Then I'm afraid you're going to have to start explaining yourself better,' Wesley replied. 'I don't get psychic visions, I'm afraid. You're mistaking me for someone else.'

'Yeah, I'm mistaking you for someone who cares.'

Halfrek put her hands on her hips and pouted.

Wesley ignored her and instead sat down on the couch and opened up a book in his lap.

'This is ridiculous,' Halfrek complained.

'Agreed,' Wesley said without looking up.

'Wesley, we need to talk.'

'Really?' Wesley marked a page and then reached for another volume. 'What about?'

'Wes, I told you I loved you.'

'No,' Wesley corrected her, 'you said that you thought you were falling in love with me.'

'Honey, you're splitting hairs.' Halfrek perched on the arm of the couch. 'We have really got to talk about this.'

Wesley shifted in his seat, shifted away from Halfrek.

'There's nothing to talk about,' he said.

'What'

'Please, please just listen to me.' Wesley got to his feet and began to pace. 'I like you Halfrek and I don't want to hurt you, but there's someone else, back in L.A.'

Halfrek put a hand to her mouth and looked away.

'Is sheis she pretty?' she asked.

Wesley's eyes drifted off. 'Beautiful. And intelligent. And witty. And she has this way of speaking that's so'

'Enough already,' Halfrek snapped, hoping her anger hid the fragility of her voice. 'If she's so great then why aren't you with her?'

'She's' Wesley cleared his throat. 'She's in love with someone else.'

Halfrek whistled.

'So you'd rather pine after someone who isn't interested than move on to someone who is, is that is?'

'It's not that simple,' Wesley insisted.

'Then let me make it simple,' Halfrek shouted. Her voice was breaking, but she didn't care. 'We slept together, Wes. I though we had something.'

'What we had was fun, Halfrek.'

'Fun? Is that all it was to you?'

She tried to slap him, but Wesley caught her by the wrist before she could make contact.

'Yes, fun,' he said. 'You're a vengeance demon, you've been around, you know how these things work.'

'How dare you?' Halfrek spat, snatching her hand away from him.

'How dare _I_?' Wesley snapped back. 'You're the one who came on to me. It's hardly my fault that you expected me to return affection that wasn't mine to give.'

Halfrek turned away.

'Then in that case we have nothing more to talk about.'

'Hal-' But she had already teleported away and Wesley was talking to empty air. '-frek.'

Wesley crossed to the cabinet and retrieved a bottle of whiskey and poured a large measure into a glass. He lifted the glass and eyed its contents sceptically. Then he filled the glass to the brim before draining every last drop.

* * *

It was Anya's turn to drive Xander home. Given all that had happened lately, there had been several offers to enable her to avoid the duty, but she had insisted on doing it anyway.

The car stereo was turned up to discourage conversation. It had been Anya's decision, but the longer the drive went on the more she found there were things she wanted to talk about.

'So, you're leaving,' she said. She practically had to shout to be heard over the music, but she refused to turn the volume down. That would be like admitting she had made a mistake putting it on in the first place.

'Yep, I'm getting out of this place while I've still got the chance.'

'I thought you liked it here,' Anya said. 'I mean, I assumed you like it here. Any sensible human being would have cleared out long ago so I figured there must be some kind of bond making you stay. Either that or you were just obscenely stupid. I've been leaning towards the later lately.'

'And every moment I spend with you is an absolute joy, too,' Xander commented.

'Hey, you were the one who wanted to ask me to come with you,' Anya shot back.

'And I still do,' Xander said. 'You really don't get it, do you, Anya. You're the one good thing this crummy town still has to offer, the one good thing left in my excuse for a life. This place took Jesse and it took Willow and then it took Buffy and I've just had it. Do you hear me? I've had it. I'm through. And I am so out of here.

'But there's still one bright spot in my life and that's the time I spend with you. I would give my right arm not to have to leave you behind.'

'Just your right arm,' Anya inquired, 'or are there any other body parts you'd be prepared to sacrifice.'

'Anya, this isn't a game,' Xander replied. 'I love you.'

'Well you've got a funny way of showing it!'

'Yeah, I guess maybe I have,' Xander conceded, 'but it's not as if there's a manual that comes with this kind of stuff. My relationships to date have all tended to lean towards the out there - praying mantis ladies, Inca mummy girls, Cordelia Chase, you know the sort of thing - so I haven't exactly had a lot of experience with a normal relationship. But you tell me what you want, Ann, and I'll give it to you. Just tell me.'

'I don't know what I want,' Anya said softly.

* * *

I sat cross-legged on my bed. I was trying to relax, but my heart was beating like a marching band.

'Tara?' I called.

'I'm here, Dawn,' she said.

'That was quick,' I said.

Tara shook her head.

'You don't understand,' she said. 'You didn't call me. I was already here.'

'But'

'You're gaining control,' she continued. 'We never expected you to get so far so fast. I'm proud of you.'

I glowed, but I was not quite sure why.

'What do you mean I'm gaining control.'

'You only see spirits when you want to,' Tara explained. 'They are all around you, all around everybody, but you don't have to be burdened by visions you don't want.'

'You're telling me this rooms full of ghosts?' I said. 'That it's _always_ been full of ghosts?'

'I don't know about full,' Tara admitted, 'but why don't you see for yourself? You have that power.'

'I don't know,' I began, but even as I said it I could feel something building, some pressure behind my eyes and it was suddenly as if I was seeing the world the way it was meant to be seen. There were at least seven of them, wandering around my bedroom.

'Who are they?' I whispered.

'People who had ties to this place in life,' Tara replied, 'and who are drawn back here in death.'

'I don't see Mom,' I said, 'or Buffy.'

'No,' Tara agreed.

'Where are they?' I pressed.

'I can't tell you,' she replied.

'But'

'There are some things you are not ready to know,' Tara explained. 

'Not ready? How can you say that?'

'Because it's true. I don't like keeping things from you, Dawn, but it's too soon. I hope it won't be much longer, for all our sakes, but please don't press me on that. Not yet.'

'Would it make any difference if I did?' I asked.

'I don't like to see you in pain,' Tara said, 'so yeah, I guess it might.'

'And that would be bad? Honestly?'

'Honestly?' Tara replied. 'Bad doesn't cover it.'

'Okay,' I conceded, 'but are there some questions you can answer?'

'Such as?'

'You remember Helena?' I said. 'She's got all these powers, strength and speed and this kick-ass healing factor. And she got them the night Buffy died.'

'You think there might be a connection?' Tara said.

'Could you find out for me?' I asked. 'If Buffy's spirit is involved then I need to know.'

'I'll look into it,' Tara promised, 'but there's something I want you to do for me while I'm gone.'

'What is it?' I asked.

'There's someone I want to meet,' she said, 'someone who may be able to answer more of your questions.'

'There was a knock at my window. I looked at Tara and she nodded. I got up off of the bed and pulled aside the curtains.

There was a man outside, hovering in the air, held aloft by his great white wings.

'Dawn,' Tara said, 'meet Zauriel.'

* * *

Anya had returned to the Magic Box. She was pottering about, checking bits and pieces, doing this and that. She had no reason to be here, really. There was nothing that needed doing. Nothing at all. But she was feeling on edge and this place, the feel of it, the smell of it, helped to calm her down.

She ran her fingers across her prize possession, the cash register.

'The Queen was in her counting-house counting out her money.'

Anya looked up, searching for the source of the voice.

Trix was lounging against a set of shelves.

'What are you doing here?' Anya asked.

'Picking up a few things,' Trix replied, indicating his bag. 'I thought I was going to be alone.'

'Yeah, well, we can't always get what we want,' Anya replied.

'Amen to that,' Trix replied. 'Now, if you don't need me anymore, I'll be going. You'll find a note behind the counter if you're really interested.'

Anya's eyes widened.

'You're doing it again, aren't you?' she said. 'Leaving in the middle of the night. Sneaking off without a word.'

'I'm not sure I'd call it sneaking,' Trix protested.

'But you are leaving, though, aren't you?'

Trix shrugged.

'Nothing to keep me here, not anymore. You don't love me Anya. Maybe we both fooled ourselves into believing that you did for a while, but we both know the truth now.'

'But you don't have to go, surely,' Anya said. 'You've still got your job here.'

Trix laughed.

'I hate my job here,' he said. 'No, maybe that's a bit harsh, but it really isn't me. I'm a lone wolf, a rebel without a cause, not a retail zombie.'

'But'

'I only took the job to be close to you,' Trix explained.

'But if you hated it so much'

Trix shook his head.

'You really are blind to your effect on people, aren't you,' he laughed. 'Me, Xander, the rest of the world, we all love you so much that you drive us to insanity. Everything we do we do it for you. Because you're worth it. All because the lady loveswhatever. Doesn't matter now anyway.'

He opened the door and stepped outside leaving Anya staring after him, mouth wide open.

* * *

'Come fly with me,' Zauriel had said.

Well, how could I say no?

And that's how we came to be soaring through the air high above Sunnydale like Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder. Zauriel was soft. It seems an odd way to describe him, but my overwhelming memory of that night is that it felt like being wrapped up in a soft, warm blanket. I was who knew how many feet above the ground held up only by a guy with wings, but I didn't once consider what might happen if I were to fall. It just was not an option. I felt safe, but I guess that's what you should expect from an angel.

I actually didn't have a problem with the idea that Zauriel was an angel. I didn't necessarily accept that he was something from out of the Bible, but he was a guy with wings so what else was I going to call him?

'You knew my sister, didn't you?' I asked him.

'How did you know that?' he replied.

'Xander told me,' I replied. 'He nearly ran you over, remember?'

'I remember.'

'So what did you two talk about?'

'I promised her that I would watch over you,' Zauriel explained.

'So I've got my very own guardian angel, huh?' I said. 'That doesn't suck.'

Zauriel smiled. 'I'm pleased to here it.'

'Were you Buffy's guardian angel, too?' I asked.

'No,' he said. 'No, I was not.'

'Guess that's why you let her die, right,' I continued, 'or was that because it was her destiny?'

'Her destiny?' Zauriel repeated. 'No, that was not her destiny.'

'Then why did she have to die?' I said. 'You could have stopped her.'

'No, I could not,' Zauriel said. His voice was so soft that his words were almost carried away by the wind.

'What aren't you telling me?' I pressed.

'You're not going to want to hear this,' Zauriel replied.

'Is that a fancy way of saying you're not gonna tell me?'

'No, it is a very simple way of telling you that you do not want to hear this, but I am going to tell you anyway because your destiny and that of your sister were always intertwined.' 

He took a deep breath. Did angels have to breathe, I wondered? If they were immortal, wouldn't they be above such things or something? Then I realised that my mind was racing, trying to avoid listening to what Zauriel was telling me. It couldn't be that bad, surely?

But then I hadn't heard it yet.

'Your sister was supposed to die when she sacrificed herself to stop Glory and to save the world,' Zauriel said. 'She _did_ die and earned herself a place at the side of the Presence. And that's when it all started to unravel.'

'We brought her back,' I said.

'Yes,' Zauriel confirmed. 'It pains me to say it, but your sister was supposed to stay dead, but she was brought back, thereby breaking the chains of destiny, not just her own, but yours too.'

'What do you mean?'

'What do you know about what you are?' Zauriel asked, seemingly dodging the question.

'Well, I'm the Key,' I said. 'I'm basically just a ball of energy that opens doors between dimensions, or was until some monks decided to stick me in human form because they thought it would hide me from Glory. Lot of good that did given that she found me anyway and tried to use me to get home, cheerfully ignoring the fact that she was going to cause all dimensions to collapse into each other with hugely entertaining results, I don't think.'

'And she would have got away with it too if it wasn't for those meddling kids.'

I shot him a look.

'Sorry,' he apologised. 'I've probably been spending more time in your realm than is good for me. You're right about being the Key, though, but you weren't created to open all dimensions. That was a side effect as much as anything else. No, you were created to open a doorway between two very specific realms.'

'And for those of us who don't want to be kept in suspense until next week?'

Zauriel smiled at that, but it was a brief thing and didn't last.

'I'm talking about the realm of the living and the realm of the dead.'

* * *

Someone was pounding on the door.

'Halfrek?' Wesley asked as he hurled it open.

'Sorry to disappoint,' Drew said as he staggered inside. He and Chrissie were supporting Grant Renfield's unconscious body between them.

'Have you got somewhere we can dump him?' Chrissie asked.

'Yesof course.' Wesley pulled up a chair and the Drew and Chrissie deposited their cargo in it.

'You'll probably want to tie him up, too,' Drew suggested.

'Why?' Wesley asked. 'You still haven't told me who he is.'

'Wesley, meet Grant,' Chrissie said, 'otherwise known as Sparky, otherwise known as the guy that's been trying to kill me.'

'Interesting,' Wesley murmured, crouching down in front of Grant.

'We thought you might want to take a look at him,' Drew continued.

'And you did the right thing bringing him here,' Wesley confirmed. 'There's a theory I want to test.'

* * *

'So let me get this straight,' I said, 'I'm supposed to have been spending the past year or so preparing to fight in this war that you say is on the way?'

'Yes.'

'Well that explains last year, then,' I continued. 'We bucked destiny and we all suffered the consequences.'

'I didn't say that,' Zauriel replied, 'and I'm not sure I agree with it. What I will say, though, is that Buffy's presence last year did hold back your development.'

'Or to put it another way,' I said, 'Buffy kept me locked at home all year.'

I grinned. Zauriel didn't.

'I wish I could joke about this with you, Dawn,' he said, 'but this is no laughing matter. There are many who believe that we have already failed, that the war is lost because our champions are not properly prepared. There are only a few of us who are still prepared to go ahead with the plan because we have faith in you.'

'Hey, rewind a minute,' I said. 'Did you say _champions_? Plural?'

* * *

Xander was in the dark. He was sitting in his wheelchair in the corner of the room, staring out into the blackness. He couldn't see the details of the room, but he knew that it, like the rest of his apartment, was practically empty. All of his possessions were already boxed and bagged. He was ready to go.

So why didn't he?

He knew why. He was waiting for Anya, but she wasn't going to say yes, was she? He had blown things with her not once, but twice and there was no coming back from that. Not this time.

'When did things get so screwed up?' he asked aloud.

'When the people you loved started dying?' a voice asked.

'Willow?' Xander asked. 'Great, now I'm hearing things.'

'Is that so bad, Xander?' Willow's voice asked. 'I thought you'd be kinda pleased to hear from me again. I thought you said you loved me?'

'I do love you, Will,' Xander protested. 'And you don't know how much I missed you.'

'Must be tough, huh, losing me and Buffy in such a short space of time?'

'Tough doesn't even begin to cover it,' Xander replied. 'It's like losing an arm. Or worse.'

'Try being dead,' Willow told him. 'It's not exactly a picnic here either.'

'Why did things have to turn out like this?' Xander asked. 

'No there's a question?' Willow asked. 'Wouldn't things be so much better if someone else had died in my place or in Buffy's? Wouldn't you rather they have died then us?'

'I don't want anyone to have to die,' Xander protested.

'But if you had to choose?'

'Why are you asking me this?' Xander asked.

'Choose!'

'II want you back, Will, you and Buffy and Tara,' Xander confessed.

'But you can't have us back,' Willow told him, 'because the world's all twisted up.'

A faint purple glow began to form on the opposite side of the room.

'There's no justice anymore,' Willow continued.

The purple glow now outlined Xander's best friend.

'Willow?' he breathed.

'But we could have some justice again, Xander, if you really wanted it,' Willow said.

Xander tried to propel himself towards his friend, but the wheels of his chair were stuck.

'Do you really want it, Xander?' Willow pressed. 'Really, really want it?'

Xander grunted with the exertion as he tried to get the chair to move.

'You could get us justice, Xander,' Willow suggested. 'Would you do that for me? Would you do that for Buffy?'

'Do you even have to ask?' Xander replied. 'But what can I do? I'm not exactly the man with the plan here.'

'I'll help you, Xander,' Willow said, 'just like I've always helped you. All you have to do is walk over here and take my hand.'

'Will, not that I want to put a big downer on your plan and all, but my legs'

'What's the matter, Xander? Don't you trust me?'

'I'

'Trust me, Xander.'

Slowly, tentatively, Xander put first one foot, then the other on the ground. Then he started to put weight onto those feet and before he knew it he was standing. In three strides he was over by Willow.

'Wow! I meanwow! Did you do that?'

Willow just smiled enigmatically at him and extended her hand.

'Oh, yeah, right,' Xander said. 'Trust you. I remember.'

Then he took Willow's tiny hand in both of his and the purple flame that danced across Willow's skin spread to encompass him as well.

* * *

The tiny lights that were Sunnydale when viewed from above were getting larger as we descended. Zauriel was taking me home.

'What I don't understand is,' I began, 'well, one of the many things about tonight I don't understand is I thought there were all sorts of places you could go when you die. I mean, Buffy sent Angel to a hell dimension and Willow thought Buffy had gone to a hell dimension, though she wasn't specific on which, but Buffy had actually gone to heaven, or whatever it really is and I know I'm babbling, but my point is you're telling me that there's just one realm where we all go when we die?'

'Yes and no,' Zauriel replied.

'Well there's a straight answer.'

'You exist in at least three dimensions, Dawn,' he explained, 'width, breadth and height.'

'That's not the same,' I protested.

'Isn't it?' Zauriel asked. 'The reason they are called dimensions is because that is what they are. Then there's the dimension of time and all things exist in that. That's four and you exist in all four simultaneously. I understand your desire to compartmentalise these things, but the truth is that all dimensions have some degree of overlap. That's why one key, such as yourself, can bring them all tumbling down.'

'So you're telling me that everything exists in lots of dimensions at once,' I said.

'Absolutely,' Zauriel confirmed. 'Of course, everything exists in a different combination of dimensions. Grass may, for example, exist in the green dimension along with an apple, but the grass isn't going to exist in a dimension exclusively for citrus fruit.'

'A citrus fruit dimension?' I remarked. 'Now I know you're being silly.'

'Ask you friend Anya about it,' Zauriel replied. 'Anyway, it looks like we've arrived.'

We were indeed hovering outside my bedroom window. The window was too small for us to fly straight through like in the movies, so Zauriel had to hold me while I crawled through.

'Dawn.' Tara was standing inside the room.

'Tara,' I said, 'what are you doing here?'

'We need to talk,' she replied. 'About your friend.'

'Helena?' I asked. 'What about her? What have you found out?'

'You remember the night shechanged,' Tara said.

'Yeah,' I replied. 'She attempted to kill herself, but her healing factor kicked in.'

'No,' Tara said, 'it didn't.'

'What?'

'Your friend didn't just attempt to kill herself, Dawn,' Tara explained, 'she succeeded.

'Helena Joslin is dead.'


	9. Drew

**9. Drew**

'Helena Joslin is dead.'

'What?' I said. 'Butbut that's impossible.'

'Unfortunately not,' Tara continued.

'But wouldn't someone have noticed?' I asked. 'What about her sister? Surely she would have noticed _something_?'

'It'scomplicated,' Tara began. 'Why don't you sit down.'

I was tempted to argue just on basic principle, but I didn't want to waste time so I sat down on the edge of my bed. Zauriel had climbed in through the window and was standing in the corner. He was trying to be unobtrusive, but you try being inconspicuous when you've got a twenty-foot wingspan.

'When Helena slit her wrists, she died,' Tara explained. 'Her spirit moved on and her body was left empty. Now, under normal circumstances that would have been the end of it, but we both know that stuff that night was far from normal.'

'But how does Helena figure into all that?' I asked.

'Has Tara explained the Ghost Roads to you?' Zauriel inquired. 'Basically, they're the paths departed spirits walk until they find a new home. Some people call it Limbo.'

'And?' I prompted.

'On the night your sister died,' Zauriel said, 'the Ghost Roads were deserted. There was some major disturbance in the spirit world and everyone took part in mass exodus to find somewhere to belong, somewhere to hide.'

'Helena's empty body made a tempting target,' Tara continued.

'Are you saying that whatever's in Helena's body isn't Helena?' I asked softly. 'It's not Buffy, is it?'

'No,' Tara and Zauriel insisted simultaneously.

'You know something, don't you,' I said. 'You know something about Buffy that you're not telling me.'

'Yes, I do,' Zauriel replied.

I glared at him and he met my stare unflinchingly. Heck, he didn't even blink. I looked away first. It was no contest really.

'What about Helena?' I asked Tara.

'Yes, what about her?' Zauriel agreed. 'I've looked into her heart and it seemed to me that that soul belonged where it was. Now you're telling me she's got a squatter?'

'More a rent-paying lodger,' Tara replied. 'Like I said, it's complicated.

'When whatever this thing is made a beeline for Helena's corpse, it got all tangled up with Helena's spirit going the other way. Theymerged, for want of a better word. The spirit got a place to hide and Helena gained some of the abilities the spirit had in life.'

'That explains her Wonder Woman tendencies,' I reasoned. 'Does Helena know she's sharing her body withsomething else?'

Tara shook her head. 'I'm not explaining this very well. Helena isn't sharing her body with anything. There is only one spirit in her body. It's not Helena and it's not the ghost that tried to take her over. Or maybe it's both. It thinks it's Helena. It has some of her memories and some of her character, but it isn't her. It's something different, something new.'

'So what do we do about it?' I asked.

There was crashing sound downstairs. It was the sound of someone knocking the front door inwards. Trust me, it happens often enough around here that I know exactly what that sounds like.

'What's going on here?' Dad was shouting. 'Who are you and what do you think you're doing?'

'Where's Dawn?'

Was that Xander's voice? 

'Dawn who?' Hank lied. 'I don't know what you're talking about so why don't you get out before I call the police.'

Xander laughed and I shivered.

Then Dad started screaming.

'Stay here,' I ordered Tara and Zauriel.

'I'm coming with,' Tara insisted. 'They can't see me, remember?'

I nodded and ran out on to the landing.

Lydia was standing at the top of the stairs. She was holding her hands in front of her face and she was wailing even louder than Dad was. Dad was lying in the hallway, writhing in agony as purple lightning played across his body, lighting that leaped from Xander's fingertips.

'Out of the way,' I snapped at Lydia as I pushed past her and threw myself down the stairs. I barrelled into Xander and the pair of us rolled out of the open doorway. I landed painfully on my side, too winded to get up. Xander was on his feet almost instantly.

'Aren't you supposed to be in a wheelchair?' I gasped.

'I got better.' Xander smiled. I'd seen that smile before, but it belonged on Glory, not Xander.

'What are you doing?' I asked. 'Why are you doing this?'

Lightning danced between Xander's hands like a cat's cradle.

'There's been a lot of death,' Xander said. 'Tara and Willow and Buffy.'

'There's been too much death,' I agreed.

Xander smiled again.

'No, not too much,' he corrected me. 'Just the wrong people. Buffy killed herself to save you, but she's worth ten of you, Dawn, twenty of you. A hundred. You should have died, not her. And I'm here to correct that mistake.'

He splayed his fingers and ten crackling arcs of energy rolled across me. I arced my back and screamed. It felt as if my blood was on fire and I struggled to focus on anything besides the pain. Darkness began to cloud the edges of my vision.

'Leave her alone!' Tara shouted.

I could see her running out of the house, but she didn't strike Xander. Instead she seemed to be tearing up the air behind him. What was she fighting? 

And then I saw it. Two figures appeared flanking Xander, drifting into focus like objects under a microscope. One was short, with black, shoulder-length hair and blue veins standing out against her pale skin. The other was taller, wrapped up in a long red dress like a drop of blood.

Tara was locked in combat with Willow and Drusilla.

And she was losing.

The fight was savage, the women clawing at each other with their fingernails and I could see them tearing chunks out of Tara. She didn't bleed like a living person, but her form was fading, wavering, becoming less and less substantial. Could a ghost die?

But the distraction had worked. Xander was no longer attacking me.

'Run,' Tara shouted.

'But what about you?' I called back, struggling to my knees.

'Just go!'

I clambered to my feet, but the fell face first on to the lawn as Xander struck me in the back.

'You're not going anywhere,' he snarled.

His fingertips sparkled with lightning and he held his hand so close to my face that I could smell the ozone.

Then the night was ripped apart by the sound of police sirens. Someone had heard my scream and acted on them. I wondered if I'd ever be able to repay them.

'We'll finish this later,' Xander whispered, pulling away from me. 'There are other things that need fixing.'

Then he folded his arms across his chest and disappeared in a flash of light.

I crawled across the lawn to wear Tara sat huddled with her knees under her chin.

'Are you all right?' I asked.

She shook her head. 'I never saw Willow go bad. I guess part of me didn't really believe it.'

'Are you all right?' one of the policemen called as he ran from his car.

I ignored him.

'We have to stop them,' I said to Tara. 'We need to work out where they might have gone.'

'What the hell happened here?' the policeman continued.

'He said something about the wrong people having died,' Tara said, 'and about correcting the mistake. He wanted to kill you because he thought you should have died in Buffy's place.'

'That wasn't Xander talking,' I insisted.

'I know,' Tara replied, putting her hand on top of mine.

'Maybe it wasn't really Willow,' I suggested. Tara offered a sad smile and shook her head slowly.

One of the policemen put a hand on my shoulder.

'You should really let the paramedics examine you,' he said.

'Helena!' I shouted.

'Helena?' the policeman repeated. 'Is that you?'

'You don't think' Tara began.

'She came back to life the night Buffy died,' I said. 'It all fits.'

'What did you say?' the policeman asked.

'We need to get after him,' I told Tara. 'Zauriel!'

The angel swooped down, put a strong arm around my waist and lifted me up off of the ground.

I looked back. The policeman's jaw had hit the floor.

* * *

Helena sat bolt upright in bed, woken by the screaming. 

'It's Piv,' Ruth explained. She was already sliding out of bed.

'Piv?' Helena asked following Ruth.

'Pavinder,' Ruth continued. 'You know. Dormouse.'

Helena nodded. Piv was the smallest and youngest member of the household and tried to use her age as an excuse to get out of the chores.

'She gets nightmares,' Ruth continued. 'Can't say I blame her. Night after they told me what happened to the little mite, I had nightmares too.'

Piv's room was on the floor below. As Helena and Ruth descended from their room, Mrs Clemens was ascending from the floor below. She and Ruth looked at each other. Mrs Clemens nodded and stepped aside to allow the two girls to enter Piv's room.

Piv was still asleep, still caught up in her nightmare. She was writhing on the bed, hands twisted into claws at her sides. Her face was a picture of terror. Ruth stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed, taking one of Piv's hands in both of hers.

'It's okay, Dormouse,' Ruth said. 'Everything's going to be okay. I'm here now.'

Taking her cue from Ruth, Helena went and sat on the other side of the bed, taking hold of Pavinder's free hand.

'We're both here,' she said.

Piv's nails were digging into her hand, but Helena didn't let go.

Ruth brushed Piv's damp hair away from her face.

'Shh,' she whispered. 'Don't fret, kid, he ain't here. Just us girls, remember, where it's safe.'

Helena felt the hand she was holding relax. The lines on Pavinder's face smoothed as she calmed beneath Ruth's caress.

'That's right, kid,' Ruth continued, 'it's just a dream. He can't hurt you any more.'

Piv opened her eyes and sat bolt upright in the bed. She tugged her hand away from Helena before throwing both her arms around Ruth's neck. Then she buried her face in her friend's chest and began to cry. Ruth held her close.

'That's right, Piv, let it all out.' Ruth looked at Helena and mouthed 'thank you.'

There was a crash outside.

'What was that?' Ruth asked.

'I'll go,' Helena offered, standing up.

'Be careful,' Ruth warned her.

Helena stepped out onto the landing.

Mrs Clemens was lying at her feet, eyes closed, blood trickling from a cut at her temple.

A man Helena didn't recognise was standing across from her, purple flame dancing across his skin.

'Did you do this?' she asked him.

'Helena Joslin,' Xander said. 'Alive and well I see.'

'Did you do this?' Helena demanded. Her eyes narrowed and her breathing quickened.

'You never met Buffy, did you?' Xander continued. 'She's dead now. She died and you got to live. Where's the justice?'

'You hurt her,' Helena said, hands clenched into fists.

'Here's the justice,' Xander explained, raising his right hand so that Helena could see the sparks crackling across his fingertips. 'Judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one. Say goodnight, Helena.'

Lightning shot from his hand and struck Helena in the chest. She could smell her flesh burning, feel the pain, not just from the damage, but from the way her body stitched itself back together. She didn't care.

'There's been enough harm,' she said, taking a step forward. 'Enough pain.' Another step. 'It's over.' One more step closed the remaining distance between herself and Xander. 'I'm putting a stop to it.'

She hit him. The punch lifted Xander off of his feet and carried him the length of the landing and sent him tumbling down the flight of stairs at the end. Helena bounded after him.

'Incoming!' I screamed.

Zauriel flew straight threw the window, glass scattering everywhere. He dropped me and I rolled away. I had hoped to roll back up to my feet, but the best I could manage was a crouch.

'Xander, stop!' I shouted.

'I think we may need to reassess the situation,' Zauriel suggested.

Xander was cowering on the ground as Helena raised her fist to strike him again. Zauriel caught her hand and held it immobile, despite Helena's strength.

'Helena, don't,' I told her. 'Zauriel's a friend, I think.'

'Thanks,' Zauriel replied, throwing me a half-smile.

'So's Xander,' I continued. 'Most of the time.'

As if to prove me wrong, Xander's eyes began glowing with barely contained energy.

'I can help him,' Zauriel told Helena quickly, 'but I need to know you're not going to start hitting him the moment I let you go.'

Helena relaxed.

'Do what you have to do,' she said.

'Thank you.' Zauriel released her arm and turned to Xander. 'Now you need to remember who you are.'

Then he plunged his fist into Xander's chest.

Xander screamed and I started to lunge forward, but Zauriel's glare froze me in place. Then he let Xander go. Xander fell to his knees, tears running down his face.

'I'm sorry,' he wailed. 'I'm so sorry.'

'What did you do to him?' I demanded.

'I have the ability to read souls,' Zauriel explained. 'You friend needed to remember who and what he is so I let him share my power, but seeing who you are in all detail is rarely a pleasant experience.'

'Will he be okay?' I asked.

'Given time,' Zauriel promised. 'I'll take him home.'

Then he scooped Xander up in his arms and flew away.

'How am I supposed to explain this?' Helena asked.

'Don't bother,' I said. 'Nobody else saw anything so however they rationalise it they're bound to come up with something more believable than possession and angels.'

* * *

'So, do you want to explain things to me?' Dad asked.

We were walking through the cemetery. The morning was cold, even for January, and I was wrapped up in hat and scarf. I had to move the scarf in order to uncover my mouth to speak.

'Explain what, Dad?' I replied.

'Something happened last night,' he said. 'No one else seems to be able to tell me exactly what. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light.'

'It was all a bit of a blur,' I lied.

'Lydia tells me you rescued me from whoever it was,' he continued.

I shrugged. 'Must have just been acting on instinct.

Dad put a hand on my shoulder.

'Thank you,' he said. I grinned, showing teeth.

'Dad,' I said after a pause, 'if you knew something about a person, something about their past that they didn't know, would you tell them?'

'I take it that this thing isn't something pleasant?' Dad deduced.

I shook my head.

'Well, you could argue that they have a right to know,' he said.

'But what if thewould end up hurting them. And what if they were just recovering from being hurt recently.'

'Well then I guess you have to ask yourself whether it'll make a difference to them if they don't know,' Dad mused, 'and if you can live with keeping the secret to yourself.'

We had arrived at our destination, the graves of Joyce and Buffy Summers. For the first time in years we stood united as a family.

Dropping to one knee, I carefully position the flowers we had brought with us.

'Happy Birthday, Buffy,' I said.

* * *

Grant was tied to the chair, tied with plastic rope so that he could not burn his way out. He struggled, but Wesley was confident that he was not going anywhere.

It had taken some time for Wesley to gather the supplies he wanted. Some of this stuff he could buy at the Magic Box. He had tried to talk Anya into letting him have it for free given the importance of his experiment, but she was adamant that he should pay full market value. And it wasn't like he couldn't afford it, he supposed. The other stuff, however, was more exotic and it had taken him several days of networking and bribery to secure the items he required.

But now he was ready.

'You've put on weight,' he told Grant as he dragged the chair to the centre of the room. He had taken up the carpet first. He was only renting the place and was still hoping to get his security deposit back when he left.

Then he drew a chalk circle on the floor around Grant. He had considered asking Janice and Chrissie to help him out. They were much more sensitive to the mystic arts than he was. However, they were also inexperience, not to mention still teenagers, and he needed to keep distractions to a minimum if this was to work. 

Making frequent reference to his notes, Wesley drew symbols around the edges of the circle, in various different coloured chalks. Then he got to his feet and created a circle of salt around the chair then a circle of a yellow powder he was assured was the ground horn of a Rettori demon. Then he placed candles at each of the four compass points. The candles themselves were not magical, but the candle holders were the mummified hands of Idri, an twelfth century Indian warrior blessed - or cursed, some scholars claimed - with four arms, one for each of his four chosen weapons of battle, the sword, the axe, the flail and the spear.

Wesley dimmed the lights and then lit the candles with a red taper.

In one hand he picked up a silver crucifix, in the other a small mirror. The curtains were open and Wesley used the mirror to reflect the light of the moon onto Grant's face.

'I call upon you, spirits that inhabit this vessel,' Wesley intoned. 'You do not belong here. Release this man. I cast you out. I call upon you, spirits, and, in the names of Birgit and of Isis, I cast you out.

Grant tilted back his head and cried out. A wind whipped up and blew out the candle flames so that the room was lit only by the thin stream on moonlight and the purple fire playing over Grant's body. Then that fire died as well.

Wesley shivered. There was an expression for that. It was as if someone had just walked over his grave. 

Then the candle flames roared back into life.

'Where am I?' Grant Renfield asked.

'Safe,' Wesley said, 'believe it or not.'

He picked up a knife and began cutting Grant's bonds.

'You can go home in a minute or two,' he continued, 'but first, there are a few questions I'd like answered.'

* * *

Another night, another gathering in Wesley's apartment. There were even fewer of us this time. Xander was still recovering and Clem had opted out. No one had heard from Trix or Halfrek.

That left Anya, Janice and me. At least there was more pizza to go round.

'I've worked out what it is we're dealing with,' Wesley began. 'I had my suspicions, but the exorcism I performed on Mr Renfield confirmed them.'

'Well?' Anya prompted. 'I just know I'm not going to like this so we might as well get it over with.'

'If I'm right, there's a Bean-Sidhe or Banshee at work in Sunnydale,' Wesley explained. 'The banshee is a particular type of Sidhe or fairy'

'I know all about the Sidhe,' I interrupted.

'You do?' Janice asked.

'She does,' Anya confirmed.

'First-hand experience,' I said.

'Right,' Wesley said. 'In any event, the banshee is associated with death, wailing against the injustice of it.'

'That doesn't sound so terrible,' Anya offered.

'That would depend on the effect of the wail,' Wesley pointed out.

'Not good?' I asked.

Wesley shook his head. 'Two people have died here recently, both of whom are connected by what they see as the unjust death of a lover.'

'You're talking about willow and Drusilla, aren't you?' I deduced.

'Yes, I am,' Wesley confirmed. 'Both of them exhibited a deep, fundamental link to magical forces and Drusilla at least has already displayed her reluctance to move on to the other side.'

'You're saying they're still out there?' Janice asked. 'What are they? Ghosts?'

She looked at me when she said that last bit and I fought not to give anything away. It wasn't that I didn't trust Wesley and Anya it was I don't know, maybe it was that I didn't trust them. 

'Well, it's just a theory, but given their connection it's possible that their spirits have bonded, forming a gestalt entity.'

Two spirits in one. I so did not like where this conversation was going.

'This gestalt would be our banshee,' Wesley continued, 'but because they're just spirits, they can't affect things physically so they're forced to act through intermediaries.'

'Like Grant and Xander,' Janice said.

'Yes, exactly.' Wesley smiled encouragingly at Janice and she beamed right back. Go to the top of the class, why don't you.

'The theory runs that Willow and Drusilla's wail acts as a form of possession,' Wesley continued. 'They cause people to act out to 'correct' any unjust deaths in their own lives. I suspect that Grant was merely a test of their power. Xander was much closer to what they hoped to achieve since, in his own way, he was acting to avenge their own deaths.'

'So what do we do about it?' I asked.

'At the moment, there's not much we can do,' Wesley admitted. 'I can exorcise anyone who has been possessed, but we can't act against Willow and Drusilla directly until we find them. Even then, I'm not entirely sure what we can do.'

'What do you mean?' Janice asked.

'Well, Drusilla and Willow are driven by their rage,' Wesley responded. 'That's what makes the gestalt work. But how do you defeat an emotion?'

'So basically you're telling us there's nothing we can do,' Anya said. 'I'm so glad I sacrificed my evening for this.'

'At least we know what we're up against,' Janice offered.

'And a lot of good that's going to do us,' Anya retorted.

'Well, if you've got any better ideas, let's hear them,' Wesley said.

Anya folded her arms and pouted.

* * *

'You want to _what_?' Drew demanded.

'I want you to write a story,' Greg replied. 'I thought that was the point here.'

Greg was the editor of the school newspaper. He and Drew were in the broom closet that was supposed to act as the newspaper office.

'Since when do you get to decide what stories I work on?' Drew persisted.

'I'm the editor,' Greg responded. 'I kinda thought that was my job.'

'Well you've never done it before.'

'I've never needed to before,' Greg pointed out. 'There used to be a time I could rely on you to deliver good stories. You haven't given me anything for three months.'

'So this is my punishment is it?' Drew asked.

Greg shrugged. 'If you like.'

'But a geology field trip?'

'Not my idea,' Greg confessed, 'but they want the publicity. And you gotta admit, it's different.'

'It's boring,' Drew replied. 'I mean, who wants to spend a day looking at rocks?'

'You do,' Greg told him, 'that is, if you want to keep your job on this paper.'

'Is that a threat?' Drew asked.

'Still as sharp as ever, huh, Drew?' Greg shot back.

'At least tell me you asked the geologists to write their own piece first,' Drew said.

'None of them can write,' Greg replied.

'What about Rachel?' Drew suggested. 'She'd be perfect for this.'

'Ray isn't the one failing to deliver.'

'Oh yes,' Drew commented sarcastically, 'she gets all those juicy sports exclusives that only a cheerleader can.'

'Maybe you should try it, Drew.' Greg winked at him. 'Who knows, you might catch some big football player's eye.'

'Laugh it up, Greg,' Drew retorted. 'This is bogus and you know it.'

'Maybe so,' Greg replied, 'but either you get down them there caves or you get off the paper. Permanently.'

* * *

'Can you believe this?' Drew complained to Chrissie. 'I'm supposed to go caving tomorrow all because Greg's got a bug up his ass about something. I think I'd rather have Mr Engel's science class all day than go look at some rocks.'

They could hear the waves crashing on the shore below them as they stood on a bluff overlooking the beach and waited for their friends to arrive.

'Yeah, well if you think that's lame,' Chrissie replied, 'you should try my life. The mighty midget's latest idea is for me and Jan to take part in some blah-de-blah Wiccan ceremony-type thing.'

'I thought you liked all this magic stuff,' Drew pointed out.

'Oh, I like the magic,' Chrissie replied, 'but that's just it. This is all ritual and worship and stuff. No real magic involved. It's like going to church, only without a roof over your head.'

'You're wrong about the magic,' Jonathan said as he walked up behind them. 'Just because there aren't the bangs and flashes that you're useful doesn't mean that there's no magic involved.'

Chrissie executed a mocking bow. 'Yes, oh wise and diminutive Zen master.'

'I'm kind of looking forward to it,' Janice confessed. She and I had arrived with Jonathan.

'Oh great, don't tell me you're a convert, Jan,' Chrissie remarked. 'The great cult of woman power finally get its claws into you?'

'It's not like that,' Janice replied defensively. 'It's just that I've been reading up on all this Wicca stuff and it's, well, interesting is all.'

'See,' Jonathan said proudly. 'You might learn something yourself, Chrissie, if you'd only try to be open to new experiences.'

'Yeah, well if this is so good how come you're not staying, short-stuff?' Chrissie asked.

'I, er, I don't believe,' Jonathan admitted. 'You don't have to accept the religious aspect of Wicca to practice magic.'

'See,' Chrissie said triumphantly.

'However,' Jonathan continued, 'to make an informed choice, you need to know what it is you're missing out on.'

'He's got you there, Chrissie,' I pointed out.

'Whatever,' she muttered. 'Let's just get this over with.'

'Then follow me, ladies,' Jonathan said, 'and I'll introduce you to Tabitha.'

Janice and Chrissie followed Jonathan down the narrow path that led to the beach. This little cove was already crowded. Men, women had all gathered to celebrate. Janice could see people setting up a barbecue on the far side of the cove.

'We get fed at this thing?' Chrissie asked.

'Later,' a woman said. She was wearing a simple white dress and wore a pentacle around her long, swan-like neck. 'The coven likes to have a bit of a party when we finish our rituals. I'm Tabitha, but everyone around here calls me Tabby.'

'Hi, Tabby,' Jonathan said. 'This is Janice and Chrissie, the two girls I was telling you about.'

'Of course,' Tabby said. 'So, you're here to share Imbolgc with us.'

'So Jonathan says,' Janice replied. 'To be honest, though, I'm still not entirely clear what Imbolgc is about. I've read about it, but'

'There's no substitute for experience,' Tabby replied with a smile. 'Basically, Imbolgc is the first day of spring, when we celebrate birth and growth in the land. It's also known as the Festival of Light. Just wait until you've seen the crown with made for Heather. Heather's our High Priestess, by the way.'

Jonathan cleared his throat.

'Um, is it okay if I leave the girls with you, Tabby?' he asked.

'Sorry, I know our rituals make you uncomfortable, Jonathan,' Tabby confessed. 'By all means, go away and come back later. The girls and I will just have to have fun without you.'

'There's something that's been bothering me a little,' Janice began when Jonathan had left.

'Really?' Tabby prompted.

'Well, it's justthese ceremonieswe don't have to benaked, do we?'

Tabitha laughed, but it was not unpleasant.

'No, no you don't,' she assured Janice. 'I know some other witches like to practice skyclad, but to be honest you're not the only member of the coven who likes to preserve her modesty.'

'Too bad, Jan,' Chrissie commented. 'I know how much you were looking forward to ogling my beautiful body.'

'Knock it off, Chrissie,' Janice scolded her.

'Come on, there's someone I want you to meet,' Tabby said, guiding the girls over to the barbecue. 'Hi, Jerry. We were just admiring your culinary skills.'

'I haven't even put the meet on yet,' Jerry protested.

'I've seen you at work before, Jerry,' Tabby replied. 'This is as good as it gets.'

'I hope you girls are smart enough to ignore Tabby here,' Jerry remarked.

'I think they're smart enough to ignore both of us,' Tabby said. 'Janice, Chrissie, this is Jerry. He and his family have been coven members for years.'

'I'm a hereditary Wiccan,' Jerry explained. 'My mom and my gran used to drag me along to these things.'

'And then he decided to drag me along too,' another woman said. 'I'm Ellie, the doting wife.'

'Allegedly,' Jerry put in.

'Ignore him,' Ellie told the girls. 'And that little bundle of sunshine down there is Caitlin, our daughter.'

'Oh, she's adorable,' Janice said, crouching down next to the little girl. 'Will she be staying for the ceremony?'

'I'm gonna play the drums,' Caitlin said proudly. 'Daddy said so.'

'Aw, she's so cute,' Janice said.

Chrissie rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, she's to die for.'

'Forgive me for saying so,' Janice said to Ellie, 'but do you think it's right dragging Caitlin into your beliefs?'

Ellie shrugged. 'I don't see that it's any different from a Christian taking their child with them to church on Sunday. And just because we're including our child in our faith, doesn't mean we're shielding her from others. If, when she's older, she chooses to believe in something else, well that's her decision and we'll support her in that. That's what parents are supposed to do.' Ellie paused. 'I take it from the look on your face that you haven't told your own parents yet.'

Janice shook her head. 'I'm not sure how my mom would react.'

'I don't blame you,' Ellie told her. 'Witchcraft gets a pretty bad press and there aren't a lot of people who seem to understand what it's is really about. Maybe that's why most of the witches I've known tended to be a bit more tolerant of other faiths, because they know what it's like to be on the receiving end.'

* * *

'Where's your friend?' Jonathan asked as he climbed back up the path.

'He had to head home,' I replied. 'He's got a big day tomorrow.'

'Right. And how's Xander? I heard about his stint as Emperor Palpatine.'

'He's recovering nicely,' I told him. 'But what about you? You're looking very pleased with yourself just now.'

Jonathan thought about this. 'You know, I guess I am.'

'Care to share?'

'You're going to think it's silly,' Jonathan insisted.

I shrugged. 'Tell me anyway.'

'Well, I've been a bit of a loser all my life,' Jonathan confessed. 'Nothing ever seemed to go right for me. So you know what I did? I tried to improve my life, but I did it by these big dramatic gestures that I hadn't really thought through. I mean turning myself into a superstar or trying to be a supervillain, it all seemed like a good idea at the time. I just wanted to be somebody, you know, to feel good about myself.

'But there was always Buffy in the background. She wasn't out for herself the whole time, but she had all the friends and she was happy, most of the time. So you know what, after everything that's happened, I thought I'd try things her way for a change. So I'm having a go at helping other people instead of me. And you know something, Dawn, making them feel better makes me feel better about myself for the first time in my life. Is that odd?'

'No,' I said. 'It's not odd at all.'

Jonathan ran and embarrassed hand through his dark hair. 'Guess you think I'm really stupid now, telling you all that stuff. Sorry about that.'

I smiled and met his eyes.

'I forgive you,' I said. 

* * *

Caitlin wasn't the only child on the beach and between them they had formed a large circle of seashells around the altar the grown-ups had set up. The coven members all stood inside the circle. Heather, the High Priestess, had paced the perimeter of the circle three times to seal it. She was dressed in a loose white robe, the hem of which trailed upon the sand, and wore a crown of lights on her head. Four witches were responsible for the four elements and each in turn took the appropriate object from the altar - the salt, the incense, the candle and the bowl of water - carried it around the circle and then invited the guardians of that element to join the coven in their celebration.

Chrissie stifled a yawn and Janice dug her in the ribs.

'What?' Chrissie mouthed.

Janice just glared.

Heather stood in front of the altar, facing north, arms stretched out to the sky.

'Holy Mother, Divine Father, we invite you into our presence this night, to take part in our Imbolgc celebrations. This night makes the end of winter and we call upon the energies of the universe to purify us and to aid us in our petitions. Hail and welcome!'

Heather slowly turned on the spot, facing each of the coven members in turn. Her gaze lingered on Janice, and Janice pulled her coat tighter around herself. She doubted she would have felt more exposed if they had decided to go 'skyclad'. Then Heather's gave moved on and Janice released the breath she hadn't known she was holding.

When Heather had completed her circuit, she raised her hands above her head once more and began to clap, rhythmically. Caitlin, aided by her father, matched the rhythm on her drums. Then the members of the coven began to chant in time to the beat, softly at first, but soon louder and with more confidence. The rhythmic droning was soothing and Janice had to fight to keep her eyelids open. She felt so calm and relaxed.

'Janice?'

Janice turned. Four figures were standing behind her, one man and three women. They had the heads of animals. The man had the head of a bird with a long, narrow, curving beak. The women wore the heads of a cat, a cobra and a jackal. Janice tried not to look directly at the cobra because it brought her out in goosebumps. She really didn't like snakes.

Janice turned back around, looking for the coven members, but she was all alone except for these animal people.

'Janice,' the bird repeated.

'Dark things are coming,' the jackal continued. 'Storm clouds writhe on the horizon.'

'You must fight them back,' the cobra hissed. 'You must take up arms and strike them down.'

'You friends need you,' the cat purred. 'It is up to you to protect them.'

'But how?' Janice asked. 'What is this? Who are you?'

'We're your friends,' the birdman said. He put his hands on his temples and lifted his head from his shoulders like a mask. Drew smiled at her from beneath. 'We're here to offer you advice. You can turn back the tide, but this is a battle that requires wisdom, not force of arms.'

'Not every fight can be won physically,' the cobra agreed, removing her own head. Chrissie's eyes sparkled in the moonlight, 'but it can be won, if you know how and when to strike. You must take the battle to your enemy.'

'You all have talents.' The cat removed her head to reveal Helena's face. 'You all have an inner strength. This will be tested in the days to come and only by working together will you be able to defeat this evil.'

'Everyone has it in them to beat this,' Dawn said. She was dressed entirely in black and wore a silver ankh around her neck while carrying the jackal's head under her arm. 'The solution is closer than you think. It's in the air all around you. All you have to do is open your eyes.'

The world spun and Janice's vision blurred. She staggered backwards, but felt arms catching her before she could strike the ground.

'Are you all right?' Tabby asked.

'Sorry, just a little light-headed,' Janice replied, letting Tabitha help her back to her feet. She looked around for the animal people, but they were nowhere to be seen.

'Sorry, I should have been keeping a closer eye on you,' Tabby apologised. 'Are you looking for someone?'

'You're telling me you didn't see them?' Janice asked.

'See who?'

'Four people with the heads of animals,' Janice replied, 'only they were really my friends and I think they were trying to give me some advice, but it was so cryptic and none of this makes any sense!'

'Come and sit over here,' Tabby suggested, leading Janice to a dry patch of sand. 'It sounds to me like you may have had a vision.'

'A vision?'

'I should have warned you,' Tabby said. 'It doesn't happen very often, but since the boundaries of past and future become more permeable here, visions aren't unheard of.'

'You're saying I had a glimpse of the future?' Janice asked. 'I thought you didn't do real magic at these things.'

Tabby laughed. 'Who told you that?'

'Well, I just figured'

'Look over there.' Tabby pointed and Janice followed her finger. Chrissie and Caitlin were sitting on the sand next to each other, banging happily on the drums, both laughing. 'You're telling me that's not magic?'

* * *

It should come as no surprise that there is actually a pretty comprehensive network of caves beneath Sunnydale. And not all of them are inhabited by spiny, slimy monsters. Which is a blessing if you want to run a geology field trip, but a curse if, as in Drew's case, you're attached to such a trip against your will.

'I hope these pictures come out,' Drew muttered to himself as he snapped away. It was darker down here than he had anticipated and he wasn't sure that his flash was strong enough. Greg would just love that.

'Hey, watch where you're pointing that thing,' Mr Kessler warned him.

'Sorry,' Drew called back, 'but you want this piece to look good, don't you?'

'Yes, well, I guess you'll have to carry on then,' Kessler replied.

Drew grinned and snapped a few shots of the guy in charge before turning elsewhere.

'Smile ladies, you're going to be famous,' Drew said, turning towards a small group of girls taking notes on a particular rock formation. Drew had been surprised that there were any girls down here at all, but he wasn't about to pass up his good fortune. Unfortunately, the girls were about as interesting as their male counterparts and Drew had soon given up. That said, they would make good eye candy for his article and that was the important thing, right? Right?

He couldn't keep this up, all this smiling and nodding and fake enthusiasm. It was just rocks, for heaven's sake. So he started hanging back from the rest of the group. Maybe they wouldn't notice if he snuck away early.

He wasn't the only one hanging back. A short, slim girl with pink hair was keeping her distance from the rest of the party as well.

'Hi,' Drew said.

'Keep that camera out of my face,' the girl told him.

'Fine, whatever,' Drew said, taking his hands off of the camera so that it hang only by the strap around his neck. 'I just wanted to talk.'

The girl looked him up and down. 'You're not my type, camera-boy,' she said.

'That's not what I meant.' Drew sighed and extended his hand. 'I'm Drew.'

The girl eyed the proffered hand with distaste.

'Ruth,' she said at last.

'Well, Ruth, what are you doing back here?' Drew asked. 'I thought you'd be up front with the rest of your buddies.'

'I'm looking for somewhere to have a quick cigarette,' Ruth replied. 'What's your excuse.'

'Honestly?' Drew replied. 'I'm not really into all this rocks and stuff.'

'Figured,' Ruth said.

'Listen, I'm supposed to be writing this article about this trip,' Drew confided in her, 'but I don't have the first clue as to what's going on down here. I mean, one rock looks pretty much the same as any other to me. You couldn't, you know, help me out a bit, could you?'

'You promise to leave me alone if I do?' Ruth asked.

'Scout's honour,' Drew promised, raising his fingers.

Ruth rolled her eyes. 'It's supposed to be your other hand,' she told him. 'Come on, let's take a look over here. Now listen up, Jimmy Olsen, because I don't want to have to repeat myself. This particular formation is special because'

There was a rumbling in the distance.

'What was that?' Drew asked. 'Sounded like thunder.'

The ground shook and Drew stumbled into Ruth.

'Watch the hands,' she snapped.

This time the rumbling was a lot louder and a lot closer.

'That doesn't sound good,' Drew remarked.

'Let's check it out,' Ruth suggested. 'Isn't that what you investigative reporter types do?'

'You read my mind,' Drew replied.

The pair of them followed the tunnel in the direction they thought the sound had come from. It only took them about five minutes to reach their destination. The tunnel was blocked by a wall of rock.

Drew stepped forward to examine it.

'So what do you call this, rock-girl?' he asked.

'Well, I used to call it the way out,' Ruth replied bitterly. 'Right now, I'm open to suggestions.

* * *

'No, I haven't heard from him either,' I said. I was talking to Janice on the phone. She was worried about Drew. 'I'm sure he's just worn out from all that caving they made him do. What say we hook up later and swing by his place? We can get Chrissie as well and head down the Bronze for an impromptu Scrappy Gang meeting.'

'Scrappy Gang?' Janice asked. 'Who came up with a lame name like that?'

'Never mind,' I said. 'So, is it a date?'

'What do you think?' Janice replied. 'We really need to get together, Dawn. That vision I had, on the beach, it frightens me.'

'You and me both, Jan,' I replied. 'You and me both.'

I wasn't alone. There was a shadow in the kitchen with me, sliding across the table.

I cried out.

'Are you all right?' Janice asked.

'Fine,' I lied. My ears were ringing, as if someone was standing next to me and screaming. 'Janice, I'm going to have to call you back.'

'But'

I put down the handset. Someone was whispering in my head. I didn't like what they were saying, but they more I listened, the more I recognised the voice. It was my own.

I walked across the kitchen, the heels of my boots clacking on the tiles, and opened the cutlery door.

'Dawn?' Hank asked. 'Are you okay. I thought I heard a scream.'

He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, false concern etched into his face. Was that how he had seduced Mom, with that mask of earnestness? It disgusted me to see it. He was so transparent. He had taken Mom, used her and then thrown her away when he had tired of her, trading her in for a younger model. And then Mom had died, but Hank got to live. How fair was that?

But there was a way to make things right again. A way to correct the mistakes life kept making.

I put my hand into the cutlery drawer and my fingers tightened around the handle of a knife.

* * *

It should have felt like a weight lifting from his shoulders. But it didn't.

Trix had just ridden past the sign that said 'NOW LEAVING SUNNYDALE. COME BACK SOON!' Not likely. Coming back the first time had been a serious mistake. He should have learned the first time that he had never stood a serious chance with Anya, but that hadn't stopped him from trying. He prided himself on his realistic, some might say cynical, approach to the world, so what was it about that girl that turned him into a hopeless romantic? And what was it about her that still tied his guts in knots.

He brought the motorbike to a halt at the side of the road.

He could always turn around and go back. Xander had screwed up badly with Anya yet again, maybe even lost her for good this time. She could still be his for the taking. Sure, she'd never love him as much as she loved Xander, but maybe Trix could live with that. Or maybe not. Life had been so much simpler when he had kept his heart under lock and key, never trusting it to anybody else.

What was that song? Last Christmas I gave you my heart, but the very next day you gave it away. Stupid song, stupid lyrics. Stupid, but true.

Trix stepped off of the bike and spread his arms wide. He looked up at the stars.

'Okay, God, Goddess, whoever,' Trix shouted, 'if you're really up there, this is your big chance to make me a convert. All I'm asking for is a sign. You give me a sign that I'm doing the wrong thing here and I'll turn right around and take my butt back to Sunnydale for another shot. You hear me, your almightyness? Give me a sign!'

Rain began to fall, a light, almost embarrassed drizzle.

'You'll have to do better than that,' Trix shouted at the sky. Then he got back on his bike and revved the engine. 'Goodbye, Sunnydale. It was fun while it lasted.'

He took one last, lingering look at the sign, then pulled away, back on to the road.

The ground exploded in front of him as something hauled itself out of the ground, dirt caught up in its dark fur.

It was a rat. Not just any rat, mind. This rat was the size of a house. And its beady eyes watched Trix hungrily.

'Me and my big mouth,' Trix complained.


	10. Dawn

****

10. Dawn

Trix gagged. The smell of damp rat fur was overpowering. The ground erupted beneath him as the rat continued to emerge and Trix fought to stay on his bike. The rat poked its snout at the demon, sniffing him curiously. Trix tried to turn away, but his wheels just spun on the unstable ground.

'Well, if I can't go backwards,' Trix muttered to himself. 'It was nice knowing you, world!'

He gunned the engine and his bike shot forward. The rat swung its paw at his head, but Trix ducked and the strike missed him by, well, a whisker. Trix gritted his teeth and continued charging beneath the rat's body.

Then the rat shifted and the ground shook once more. The road opened up beneath Trix's motorbike and both he and his transport were sent spiralling down into the blackness.

* * *

'Let's go find Kessler,' Drew suggested. 'He knows these caves, right? Maybe he knows another way out of here.'

'Ever the optimist, huh, camera-boy?' Ruth mocked. She sat down on the pile of fallen rocks and dug out a packet of cigarettes from her pocket.

'You'd rather just wait here?' Drew asked.

Ruth shrugged. 'Wait here. Go find Kessler. Not much difference when you think about it. You want one.'

Drew glowered at the offered cigarette. 'No, thank you. And I can't just sit here. I need to do something.'

'Suit yourself.' Ruth lit her cigarette with a cheap plastic lighter and then stood up. 'Well, are we going or what?'

'But I thought…'

'Like I said, go or stay, it makes no difference to me,' Ruth explained. 'But if you're going I might as well tag along.'

'Suit yourself.' Drew turned and set off back they way they had come. He told himself that he didn't care whether Ruth was following or not, but he had barely gone ten paces before he looked back to check on her. She was following.

'They were just around this bend,' Drew called back. 'I think.'

Before they could turn the corner, however, there was another earth tremor. Ruth lost her footing and fell into Drew's arms.

'I didn't think you felt this way about me,' Drew commented, in no hurry to get back up.

Ruth jumped away as if bitten. 

'In your dreams,' she replied.

'But…' Drew began.

Ruth cut him off. 'If you're about to ask if the earth moved for me, I promise you you'll be singing soprano for the rest of your life.'

Drew merely smiled.

Ruth shook her head. 'Give me strength.'

She stalked off around the corner, then stopped abruptly.

Another cave-in had cut them off.

'Now what?' she asked.

'Well, we could always wait here for someone to rescue us,' Drew suggested.

'Yeah, like that's gonna happen,' Ruth replied. 'How long do you reckon it'll be before they even think to look for us? And what happens then? There are miles of caves down here. How will they even know where to look?'

'Kessler and the others might make it out,' Drew pointed out. 'They can lead a rescue party to us.'

'Do the words 'clutching at straws' mean anything to you?' Ruth asked.

'Okay,' Drew said, 'well if you don't want to wait here we could always try looking for another way out on our own.'

'And our chances of finding one are somewhere between none and, let me see, none.'

'Are you always such a pessimist?' Drew demanded, frustrated.

'I prefer to think of myself as a realist,' Ruth replied. 'Murphy's Law: if anything can go wrong, it will. What's the point of fighting it?'

'I don't believe you,' Drew said. He pressed his palms against the rock wall, but stopped short of banging his head against it. 'I'm going to go look for a way out. You can do what you like.'

Drew turned and walked away and before long he was aware that Ruth was hurrying to catch up with him.

'Decided to live in hope after all?' he asked.

Ruth blew smoke in his face.

'Nah,' she said. 'It's just you're better company that the rocks. Marginally.'

* * *

The handle of the knife felt cool, but my palm was burning. The blade of the knife was shaking, scattering light across the counter. Then I noticed that my hand was shaking too. I put my other hand on top of it to try and steady myself.

'Dawn, are you all right?' Hank asked.

_Of course I'm not all right. My mom and my sister are both dead and the only other member of my family left alive is my usually absent father, if he deserves the title. Would you be all right?_

****

Look at him, Dawnie. He's waited until the rest of your family is dead so that he can come in and take over, insinuating himself and his latest squeeze in their place. Doesn't it make your blood boil? Doesn't it make your skin creep? Doesn't it make you want to lash out and wipe that oh-so-caring smile right off of his face?

I kept my eyes fixed on the knife. I couldn't look anywhere else. I didn't trust myself to look anywhere else.

'Dawnie?' Hank took a step closer.

_Don't call me that. Mom called me that. Willow and Tara called me that. The people I cared about called me Dawnie. You haven't earned the right._

****

You could punish him for that, Dawnie. You should_ punish him for it. You know you want to._

No. No, I don't.

****

You can't lie to me, Dawnie, any more than you can lie to yourself. You've spent six years building up your resentment to your father and the anger's still bubbling away, just beneath the surface. Give in to the anger, Dawnie. Let it all out.

'Dawn?' 

Hank put a hand on my arm and I flinched away.

'Don't touch me!' I yelled.

****

_See how he makes you feel. That's the truth right there._

Hank's mouth fell open. He could see the knife, clutched tightly in my hands.

'What the…'

**__**

Time to put him in his place, Dawnie, him and his little whore.

'No!' I screamed. 'No, I won't do it! I won't!'

'Dawn? What's going on? What's wrong?'

Hank reached out for me. Was it to comfort and protect, or to hurt and to harm? I just didn't know any more.

**__**

Do it! Do it now!

I lashed out without thinking. All I could see was the blood.

* * *

A couple of blocks away a man smothered his baby daughter while she slept. His wife, his precious Juliet, had died giving birth to her. Freak complications, the hospital had said. They had had to choose, to save the wife or the child. They had chosen the child.

But it didn't seem fair. It wasn't right. He missed Juliet and there was a hole in his heart that his daughter just could not fill. They had chosen the wrong one, he could see that now, so he took up the pillow and decided to do something about it.

* * *

A woman walked into Sunnydale Memorial Hospital. The last time she had been he she had been with her brother. He had had cancer, but it was operable, the doctor's all said so. But if that was the case, then why had they let him die. He had been fine, laughing and chatting as they wheeled him away to theatre. And then the next time she had seen him…well, she hadn't seen him at all. She had been shown his body, but her brother was no longer inside.

It wasn't fair. He should not have had to die. They could have saved him. Where was the justice?

She knew where.

Ignoring the shouts of the hospital staff, the woman strode purposefully into the operating theatre and shot the surgeon three times in the chest.

* * *

And five minutes later, halfway across town, ten-year-old Clayton Richards threw a petrol-bomb through the window of the Darwin Veterinary Centre. They had put his beloved Snowy to sleep and Clayton didn't think that was right.

* * *

'Can you feel that?' Drew asked.

'Feel what?' Ruth asked. She had finished her cigarette and was now walking along with her hands in her pockets. There was a thin stream of reddish brown water trickling along by her feet and she wondered if it might once have been a much stronger river, strong enough to carve out the cave they were standing in.

'There's a breeze,' Drew explained enthusiastically. 'I'm sure of it.'

'You're imagining things,' Ruth told him.

'No,' Drew insisted, 'it's coming from over there.'

They went and examined the wall Drew indicated. There was a narrow opening about a foot off of the ground. Sure enough, there was a definite breeze coming from the other side, but…

'No way are we going to fit through there,' Ruth pointed out.

'Maybe it widens out after a bit,' Drew suggested, shining his torch through the gap.

'Yeah, right,' Ruth muttered.

Drew looked her up and down.

'There's not much of you, is there,' he commented.

'So?'

'So, if you lose the pack, I reckon you might just squeeze through,' Drew replied. 'If there is a way out on the other side, you can go for help.'

'Always assuming I don't get stuck halfway through,' Ruth shot back.

'Come on, Ruth,' Drew persisted. 'I'm never going to get through there. If anyone goes, it'll have to be you. Please.'

Ruth glared at him.

'Don't make me beg,' Drew said.

'Oh all right,' Ruth snapped. She struggled out of her backpack and removed her bulky hard-hat. 'Wish me luck.'

Walking sideways, she squeezed through the narrow gap. The rock pressed in around her, damp and slimy and smelly. It tore at her skin and her overalls, but she found that by shuffling along she was able to make progress, albeit very slowly.

'Are you okay in there?' Drew called.

'What do you think?' Ruth shouted back. 'Any chance of some light in here.'

Drew fiddled with his torch and the beam of light struck Ruth in the eyes. She blinked to clear the spots.

'That better?' Drew asked.

Ruth did not bother to reply.

It turned out that Drew had been right and the passageway did start to widen out after a while. Then she reached the exit…and almost fell out. The passageway opened into yet another cavern, but the opening was about ten feet off of the ground. Ruth had to brace herself against both walls to avoid tumbling to the ground.

She looked up.

'I've found the way out,' she called back. 'Looks like there's been another rock fall here, but this one's opened up the cave rather than sealing it.'

Ruth could see the starry sky through the gaps in the roof of the cavern. A shower of fallen rocks decorated the far wall, but Ruth thought it looked just about climbable.

'Well what are you waiting for?' Drew demanded. 'Go for help.'

'Hang on a sec,' Ruth shouted. 'I can see someone else down here.'

She sat down on the edge of the tunnel opening and the half slid, half crawled down the wall of the cavern. There was a figure lying face down on the cavern floor.Ruth prodded him with her foot, but her didn't move. She stooped down and rolled the body over.

She cried out.

'What is it?' drew shouted, his voice echoing around the cavern. 'What happened?'

'This guy…he's not human,' Ruth said. 'He's got pointy ears and horns and…what is he?'

'Leave him,' Drew told her. 'Just go get help.'

'You don't have to tell me twice.' Ruth began scaling the rock fall.

There was movement behind her. She heard heavy footfalls and rasping breath.

She turned.

And she screamed.

'Ruth!' Drew pressed himself against the entrance to the narrow passageway, desperate to see what was going on. At first there was nothing but darkness, but slowly his eyes adjusted.

A huge beady eye blinked at him.

* * *

Clem drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair and wrinkled his forehead - even more than usual. Why was his life always full of these difficult decisions?

Cartoons were playing out across the TV screen, their vibrant colours illuminating the crypt. The kittens he had won at cards the night before mewled as the scampered round his feet, brushing themselves affectionately against his legs.

'So, let me see,' Clem muttered to himself. The large packet scrunched as he picked it up. 'You? No, I think I'll save you for later.' He picked up another bag of crisps. 'How about you. No, I don't think I'm in the mood for spicy tonight.'

Clem sighed. He usually enjoyed choosing his evening snacks, sometimes even more than the eating the snacks themselves, but he'd gotten use to having me there to help him choose. Clem liked having me around. He enjoyed the company. Now that Spike was gone, there weren't a lot of people he could just sit and talk to.

But I hadn't been visiting of late. Not that he blamed me. I was entitled to have my own life in the human world, but it would have been nice for him to see me every once in a while.

Truth be told, Clem was feeling lonely and just a little bit neglected.

Then the TV cut out.

Great, Clem thought, now I only have the kittens for company. He scooped one up in his massive hands and rubbed noses with it.

'You're a sweet little thing, aren't you,' he told it, 'but you're a lousy conversationalist.'

Then the TV blasted back into life.

'Maybe things are looking up after all?' Clem whispered in the kitten's ear. The kitten yawned.

The TV roared with white noise and static obscured the actions of the colourful characters.

'Have you got anything to do with this?' Clem asked his feline friend.

A face was forming out of the static. A familiar face.

'This is so not good,' Clem said. He was shaking and he clutched the kitten tight against his chest. The kitten yowled in protest.

The woman on the screen raised her hand in front of her face. Clem's eyes focussed on the woman's nails, painted a deep red, but white at the tips. The woman snapped her nails together like a crab clacking its claws and then reached out for Clem, her hand stretching through the front of the TV screen.

Clem lunged away and his chair fell over backwards, sending the demon tumbling across the floor. He barely paused, scrabbling back up to his feet and then racing out into the night, kitten still in hand.

* * *

Hank took three stumbling steps back, staring at the blood blossoming from the deep cut on his hand.

'Dawn…I…'

__

What have I done?

****

What you had to do. Now finish it!

But…but I don't want to.

****

Don't you? I think we both know better. Look at the blood. Doesn't it excite you? 

Yes. No. No, this isn't me.

****

Give in, Dawnie. You know you want to.

The knife was still in my hand. Blood trickled off of the blade and dripped slowly to the floor. The knife felt heavy and uncomfortable in my hand. I wanted to drop it, but my hand refused to open.

Hank hovered over me indecisively, wanting to reach out to me, but wary of the weapon I held. He had rested his wounded hand against his opposite shoulder and the blood was seeping into his shirt.

There was movement at the door.

'Hank?' Lydia asked. 'What's going on in here?'

'Go back upstairs, Lydia,' Hank told her without turning his head.

'But…oh my god, Hank, you're bleeding.'

**__**

Isn't she the smart one.

'Did she do this?' Lydia demanded. 'Did that witch attack you?'

**__**

Stupid girl. She doesn't even know what a witch is. We could show her, Dawnie, you and I. Or we could just gut her, open her up just like she deserves.

My hand trembled.

'I…I don't want to hurt you,' I said, my voice shaking. 'Just leave me alone.'

'Go, Lydia,' Hank commanded.

'But…'

'Go!'

Lydia went.

'You too, Dad,' I stammered.

__

It would be so easy to ram the knife into him now. If I opened up his stomach, I could watch him die slowly and in pain. But he's my dad…

****

Dad? Don't waste the word on him. 

But he cares about me, doesn't he?

****

He pretends to care, but he doesn't. Not really. He thinks he can waltz in here and take your mom's place. Are you just going to let him?

But Mom's dead.

****

And trash like him gets to live. Is that fair. Wouldn't you rather your mother was here.

'I want Mom back,' I agreed aloud.

'I'm here, honey,' Mom assured me.

'Mom?'

She was crouching beside me, her smiling face looking into mine.'

'I came as soon as I could,' she said. 'I'm just sorry I couldn't get here sooner.'

**__**

Don't listen to her. She's a lie. An illusion.

But I knew better. It was my gift, my curse, to see ghosts and, while Mom may have been dead, that didn't mean it was not her on the floor beside me.

I fell to my knees and Mom took both my hands in hers.

'I missed you so much,' I whispered.

'Hush now, sweetie,' Mom said, brushing the hair out of my eyes. 'It's okay. Everything's going to be okay now.'

**__**

Okay? Look around you, Dawnie. How can anything be 'okay'?

'I hurt Dad,' I told Mom. 'I wanted to kill him.'

__

Part of me still does.

'That wasn't you, honey,' Mom assured me. 'Deep down, you know that.'

**__**

Then who was it, Dawnie? Answer me that. Look deep down inside yourself and you'll find me waiting.

'Dawn, who are you talking to?' Hank asked.

Mom looked up at him. He couldn't see her, of course, but she could see him.

'We had some good times, didn't we,' she mused wistfully, 'just the four of us.'

'I just want things to be like they were before,' I confessed.

**__**

And I can give you want you want. You just have to give in to me.

'I can't give you that, Dawnie,' Mom said. 'I can't even stay for very long.'

'But…' I pulled away. Suddenly, what little contact I had with her tore at my heart like fingernails on a blackboard.

**__**

She's going to betray you. They'll all betray you in the end. Except me.

Hank knelt down beside me and put a hand on my shoulder.

'Just shut up!' I shouted. 'Just shut up and let me think!'

Hank snatched his hand away as if I had burned him. Maybe I had.

'I wish I could stay, really I do,' Mom explained, 'but I shouldn't even be here at all.'

'Then why are you here?' My voice was deeper than normal as I thought back the tears.

'Why do you think, silly,' she replied. 'My little pumpkin belly was in pain and nothing was going to keep me from going to her. When you've got kids of your own, you'll understand.'

'If I live that long,' I said.

Mom frowned at me. 'What sort of talk is that?'

'Buffy…'

'It was Buffy's time, just like it was mine,' Mom insisted, 'but you've got your own destiny and I know you'll make me proud.'

**__**

Don't listen to her. Don't'…

I thought I told you to shut up!

'I'll try,' I said to Mom.

We sat in silence, enjoying each other's presence, but I couldn't get comfortable. I was distracted by the noises outside, the shouts, the crashes and the violence.

'Well?' Mom prompted me.

'I don't want to go,' I confessed.

'I don't want you to go either, honey,' Mom replied, 'but…'

'Will I ever see you again?' I asked.

Mom ran the back of her hand over my cheek. She was as soft as I remembered.

'I don't know, Dawn. I just don't know.'

I didn't want to go. This was my mom, for heaven's sake. I just wanted to stay wrapped in those arms forever, where it was safe and it was okay to be a little kid. And there was a little voice in the back of my head that told me to take it while I had the chance. It wasn't every day you got a second bite at the cherry. But I had learned not to trust the voices and to trust to my heart instead. I was my mother's daughter. I was Buffy's sister. I was not about to just hide away when there was evil to be fought, wrongs to be righted. I was going to do what had to be done because that was the person I had been raised to be.

I got to my feet. Mom mirrored my movement and opened her mouth to say something.

'Don't,' I said before she had the chance. 'Don't say goodbye. Never goodbye.'

'How about good luck?' Mom asked.

'You too, Mom, you too.'

We embraced and Mom planted a kiss on my forehead.

'Now get out there and beat the bad guys,' she whispered in my ear.

I spun on my heel and strode purposefully out into the night.

* * *

Janice was lying on her stomach, on her bed. A book rested on her pillow and she was scribbling in a notepad as she studied it. Three candles - two tall white ones and a smaller red - burned on her bedside table. Her headphones were plugged into her CD player and her toes tapped in time to the beat. She had had enough arguments with both her sister (before she moved out) and her mom to realise that life was easier if she wore the headphones when listening to her music.

With her biro, she doodled another pentagram in the margin of her notebook and began shading in alternate sections.

Howling static shot out of her headphones, deafening her. She tore the headphones off and switched of the CD player. As an extra precaution, she pulled the plug out at the socket.

She must have cried out because her mom was calling out from downstairs.

'Janice, are you all right up there?'

'I'm fine, Mom,' Janice called back. 'CD player's on the fritz, that's all.'

'If you're sure,' her mom replied. 'Dinner'll be in an hour, okay.'

'Okay.'

Janice shook her head. Her ears were still ringing.

Was the CD player at fault? It was possible, she supposed, but if so then why were the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention?

The candle flames flickered, as if in a breeze. Janice turned to the window, but it was shut tight. She hugged herself, rubbing her hands against her upper arms. She suddenly felt very cold. She pressed her hand against the radiator. It was warm, but as soon as she took her hand away, the heat was gone.

She licked her lips.

'Where are you?' she demanded. 'What do you want?'

'We want to help you,' came the hissing reply.

'Why don't you come out where I can see you?' Janice backed up to the wall. If she pressed herself against it, it stopped her shaking.

The shadows danced across the far wall as the candle-flames flickered. Then Janice realised that the shadows were moving on their own, crawling together to form a single figure.

'Is this better?' the figure hissed.

'Why are you doing this?' Janice asked. And why couldn't Mom hear any of this, she wondered. Shouldn't she be breaking the door down by now?

Books flew from the shelves and Janice had to cower, hiding her head with her arms, to avoid the onslaught. A single book landed at her feet, falling open as it did so. It was her photo album and the face that looked up at her belonged to her grandfather. Her deceased grandfather.

'You miss him, don't you?' the shadow hissed.

Janice couldn't find her voice.

'You don't have to say anything,' the shadow continued. 'We know you. We know your fears and your desires. They taste so sweet, bittersweet. We could bring him back for you. You'd like that, wouldn't you.'

Janice ground her teeth and looked directly at the shadow.

'No,' she said.

'You cannot defy us,' the shadow informed her. 'We know the secrets of your heart.'

'I can defy you and I will,' Janice replied, standing straighter and taller. 'You're the banshee, aren't you, that thing Wesley was telling us about. I heard what you did to Xander, saw what you did to that other guy. I won't be a part of that.'

'So you have found us out,' the shadow said. 'No matter. You will join us, little one. You have no choice.'

'There's always a choice,' Janice shot back. 'I will fight you and I will win because I'm in touch with a power greater than yours.'

'You delude yourself, little witch,' the shadow said. 'You can only use magic with the other. Alone, you are nothing.'

Janice shook her head. 'You are so wrong. I may not be able to cast spells, but the magic's always a part of me, just as I'm a part of it. You can't touch me.'

Janice could feel the power buzzing against her skin like an electric blanket. Magic coursed through everything and as she faced down the shadow, Janice drew it to her, like a plant drawing water from the soil. She filled herself up with the magic until she felt like a water balloon ready to burst. 

'You cannot touch me,' she repeated, tracing a pentagram in the air with her index finger.

The shadow screamed, writhing against the wall until it faded to nothingness.

Janice sagged.

'What a rush,' she breathed.

A growl rumbled through the bedroom. Janice turned to the mirror. Two feline eyes looked disapprovingly back at her.

'What?' Janice demanded. 'Okay, okay. I'm going, all right?'

She winked at the mirror and grabbed her coat.

* * *

Drew stepped slowly away from the wall. He could hear something scrabbling against the other side. Something large. The wall was shaking and dust was already falling to the floor from the cobwebs of cracks that were forming.

'Ruth!' he shouted. There was no answer. He hoped that meant that she had got out and had not ended up a victim of…

No, don't even think it, he scolded himself. She's tough. She'll be fine.

Which was more than he could say for himself. The way that wall looked now, that thing was almost through. He would have to move, but which way. Onwards or back the way he had come.

He hesitated and that hesitation saved his life.

A massive furry paw smashed through the wall and into the cavern mere feet in front of him. Drew stumbled backwards as the rest of the giant rat forced itself through after its paw.

'You wouldn't happen to be vegetarian, would you?' Drew asked it.

The rat's whiskers twitched and if nosed closer to Drew, sniffing him.

'See, I smell terrible,' Drew babbled. 'You could do much better than me.'

The rat opened its jaw revealing very large, very sharp teeth.

'I don't suppose I could bribe you with cheese, could I?' Drew continued. 'Lots of yummy cheese?'

The rat rubbed its cheek against a trembling Drew. The rat's fur was damp and coarse and smelled funny, but Drew tried not to move, not to flinch.

'See, I knew you'd like me,' he said.

Then the rat swatted him against the wall with one of its paws.

Drew slowly picked himself back up. Was there any part of him that didn't ache? If there was then it was one of those obscure parts that only doctors knew the correct word for. He reached for his camera. It had worked against little demons, so maybe it'd work against giants. He pointed at the rat's eyes and snapped a shot.

Nothing happened.

'This is not my day,' he muttered, examining the shattered flash bulb. It must have broken when the rat knocked him into the wall. 'Time for plan B.'

He looped the camera strap over his neck and then hurled the camera at the rat. It struck it between the eyes and bounced away. The rat cried out in pain and reared up on its hind legs.

This time, Drew did not hesitate. He sprinted past the rat and through the now much wider passageway linking the adjacent caverns. He hadn't expected the steep drop at the end of the corridor and fell face first down the slope and to the ground. But at least the rat was no longer between him and the way out.

He gave up on trying to come up with a painless way of getting to his feet and simply cried out in pain as he hauled himself upright. Then he noticed the leather-clad body on the floor nearby. That must be the demon Ruth had mentioned. Keeping a watchful eye out for the rat, he limped over to examine the body. He made a sharp intake of breath. He recognised this demon.

'Trix?'

He checked for a pulse and couldn't feel one, but what did that mean. Drew didn't know how Trix's biology worked.

'Come on, Trix, wake up.' Drew started asking Trix, then thought better of it. What if he had internal injuries?

He heard scrabbling above him and looked up.

The rat was watching them.

* * *

It started out simple enough. Unpleasant, gruesome and sadistic it may have been, but the basic premise was simple. The thing (I couldn't think of it as Willow, even with Drusilla in the mix) would prey on anyone who had lost someone they cared about. Which, let's face it, meant just about everyone. It would then suggest that someone else should have died in the place of the person who had, someone connected to the deceased individual. A wife, a brother, a friend or an enemy, it didn't really matter who it was, just as long as it gave the banshee, this gestalt, something to hang its lies on and make them sound palatable, tempting. And it would drive its chosen victim to murder, in the name of righting the injustice of the universe.

That was the simple part, but it didn't stop there.

Think about it. If you loved someone, and I mean really loved them, then who wouldn't you rather see dead in their place? If you had to choose, where would you draw the line? And that was the problem, you see, because once the fighting and the killing started, it couldn't stop and what had once been simple was now a chaotic mess.

Much to the delight of the gestalt.

And through that chaos I had to walk. Or run. Or sprint until my lungs were burning and then sprint some more because I knew that, no matter how much it felt as if I would spew my guts, if I let them catch me then I really would end up with my intestines on the outside of my body.

It helped that the chaos, by definition, was directionless and I was but one of many. You've heard the one about the two men being chased by the hungry lion? The winner isn't the one who runs faster than the lion. The winner is the guy who runs faster than his friend. You work it out.

So it was with me. So long as there were easier targets, then I was left relatively alone, and I was working really, really hard to make sure I wasn't an easy mark.

I don't know if I can explain just how frightening my flight across town was. Firstly it was dark and, though it's embarrassing to admit it, there's always something a bit scary about the dark. Then there's the fact that there are hundreds of people who would like to see me dead. Not a good thought. But I've been here before, on both counts. No, what made this time scary was the identity of the people out for blood. They were just ordinary people. They were kids and parents, teachers and pupils, lawyers and doctors and bus drivers and shopkeepers and the guy you say 'Hi' to in the street every morning, but whose name you've never thought to ask. These sorts of people shouldn't be mixed up in this stuff. We were supposed to protect them from this.

But all of the barriers had broken down and to see that anger and rage and loss and need on the faces of Joe Public, it made me go cold inside.

I was more relieved when Wesley answered his door than I care to admit. I forced my way passed him into the warmth and the light.

'Have you come all the way here from home?' he asked, once he had offered me a seat.

I nodded, still too out of breath to speak.

'You shouldn't be out there alone,' he chided me. 'It's not safe.'

'It's worse than you think,' I told him. 'Whatever's happening, whatever this banshee or whatever she is wants, it's going to happen tonight.'

Wesley nodded thoughtfully.

'I'll call the others,' he said.

* * *

Chrissie huddled in the corner of her room, knees under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. The room was in darkness, but she knew that she wasn't alone. He was out there, watching her, coming for her.

It was no less than she deserved.

* * *

'What do you want?' Xander demanded.

'Well that's not very nice,' Anya replied as she followed him inside.

'Sorry. I wasn't expecting company.' Xander rolled his chair back into the living room.

Anya took in the piles of clothes and the open suitcases.

'You're packing up, aren't you?' she deduced. 'You're leaving.'

'Tonight,' Xander confirmed.

'And you weren't going to tell me?'

'I didn't think you were interested. Could you pass me that…' He pointed. 'Thanks. It's tough to reach from down here.'

'Wesley phoned,' Anya told him. 'He said he tried calling you, but you weren't answering. I was worried.'

'Well, as you can see, I'm fine,' Xander replied. 'I take it Wesley wants you to go help him save the world. Again.'

'Something like that.'

'Well, have fun.'

'You're not going to come with me?'

Xander shrugged. 'Not my fight anymore. I'm out of all that.'

'What is this? A delayed reaction to Buffy's death?' Anya asked. 'After what they did to you, I thought you'd be all ready and willing for a little payback.'

'Vengeance is your gig, Anya, not mine,' Xander replied. 'All I want is a quiet life. Well, almost all.'

'So you're running away, is that it?'

'I'm not running away,' Xander protested. 'I've already done more than my fair share. Buffy would understand.'

'Buffy. It always comes back to Buffy, doesn't it.'

'That's not fair, Anya. She's not here to defend herself.'

'Why should she need to when she's got you to do it for her,' Anya replied bitterly.

'I loved her, Anya,' Xander replied.

'That's hardly breaking news, Xander.'

'I loved Willow, too. And Jesse, though I'd like to stress that was a completely different form of loving,' Xander said. 'They're all dead now. And I am sick of burying the people I love.'

'That's life, Xander,' Anya told him. 'If there's one constant it's that people die.'

'Not like this,' Xander said. 'Normal people don't get bitten by vampires or torn apart by black magic. I've spent seven years trapped inside a horror movie and I just want out. I want a normal life. Is that too much to ask?'

'So you're running away,' Anya said, 'leaving Dawn and Janice and the others to continue the fight without you. They're only children!'

'How dare you,' Xander shot back. 'I've been fighting the good fight for seven years. Seven very long years. Those 'children' are no younger than I was when I started out.'

'That still doesn't give you the right to abandon them.'

'If they had any sense they'd come with me. You could still come with me, Anya. It tears me up inside that I'm going to have to leave you behind, but nothing like the thought that I may have to watch you die if I stay.'

'I'm not going to come with you, Xander,' Anya said, looking away. 'Not now. Later, perhaps, but I still have responsibilities and I'm not about to run away from them.'

'I went to see the doctor the other day,' Xander said.

'What's that got to do with anything?'

'Hear me out,' Xander placated her. 'When I was possessed, I was walking around as if my accident had never happened. We all assumed that Willow had magically healed my legs or something, right? Wrong. All she did was make me think my legs were okay. All that walking around has only exacerbated my injuries and the doc says the damage is now irreparable. I'm never going to walk again, Anya. I think I've earned my retirement, don't you?'

* * *

'You killed me,' said the voice in the shadows. 

Chrissie nodded dumbly.

'I could have been somebody special,' the voice continued. 'An artist or a doctor. Or a pilot. I might have liked to be a pilot. But we'll never know now, will we?'

'No,' Chrissie tearfully agreed. 'No, we won't.'

'It's not fair, is it,' the voice continued. 'You get to kill me, you get to live, but I never get to find out what might have been.'

'It wasn't my fault,' Chrissie protested.

'How dare you.' The voice cracked like a whip. 'How dare you say that to me. You killed me. Nobody else. You did it. You killed me, Mommy.'

'I killed you,' Chrissie numbly agreed.

'But why me?' the voice asked. 'Why did I have to die? Wouldn't it have been better if it had been someone else? Would you rather I died or…or you?'

Chrissie's lower lip trembled.

'Me,' she replied.

Tiny hands clenched around her throat.

* * *

'What do you think you're doing?' Lydia demanded.

'I'm going after Dawn,' Hank told her as he struggled into his coat.

'Are you crazy? That little monster just took a knife to you.'

'I had noticed.' Hank held up his hastily bandaged hand. 'She needs help, Lydia. I need to find her.'

'Have you seen what's going on out there, Hank?' Lydia asked. 'Take a long hard look.'

'All the more reason for me to go and look for her,' Hank protested. 'She's all alone out there.'

'But it's okay for you to leave me all alone here, is that it?'

'You'll be fine so long as you lock all the doors behind me,' Hank assured her.

'You don't know that,' Lydia snapped. 'You can't know that.'

Hank looked away. 

'You're right, I don't know,' he admitted.

'So you're choosing to save her over me,' Lydia pointed out.

'It's not like that,' Hank insisted. 'Look, if I leave you alone, you might be in danger, but out three, Dawn certainly is.'

'You're always putting her first,' Lydia said. 'Ever since we got here.'

'What do you expect?' Hank shot back. 'She's my daughter, for crying out loud. She's all I've got left of my family.'

'So where does that leave us?' Lydia asked.

Hank's mouth moved, but no words came out.

'Can we talk about this later?' he finally managed to ask.

Lydia shook her head.

'If you leave now, I won't be here when you get back.'

Hank nodded slowly.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

Then he opened the door.

* * *

'Go ahead,' Chrissie said in a choking sob. 'Go ahead and kill me.'

'Honey, please tell me you don't know what you're saying,' Halfrek said as she stepped out of the shadows.

Children had always been Halfrek's primary focus in the whole justice demon biz and Chrissie's pain had called her like a moth to a flame.

'You don't understand,' Chrissie said. 'I killed him.'

'Killed who?' Halfrek asked. 'I don't understand.'

'I didn't even give him a chance,' Chrissie continued. 'What kind of a person does that make me?'

'Maybe if we talked about things, honey…'

'He asked me who I'd prefer was dead, me or him,' Chrissie said.

'Now slow down, girl. I don't like where this is going.

'Of course I said me,' Chrissie said. 'I should be the one who died, I know that. I wish…'

'Don't say another word,' Halfrek warned. 'Chrissie, don't you dare.'

'I wish I was dead.'

* * *

Anya had returned to the Magic Box. She supposed that she ought to be at Wesley's, but her conversations first with Trix and then with Xander had thrown her and she needed time to get her head together. And where better to think than the place that she had come to consider home.

The bell over the door tinkled.

'We're closed,' Anya called without looking up.

'Anya, it's me, Clem,' Clem said. A kitten mewed. 'And I brought a friend.'

'Oh, Hi, Clem,' Anya replied. 'We're still closed.'

'I was just looking for Dawn,' Clem explained.

'Oh, right, should have known,' Anya said. 'Not even a man with your looks - no offence - would want to spend any time with me. Maybe Willow and Tara had the right idea.'

'I take it you've had a rough night?' Clem deduced. He sat down next to her and set the kitten down on the table.

'Well, I've managed to get ditched by not one, but two boyfriends in a matter of hours, does that count?'

'Ouch,' Clem said. 'If there's anything I can do.'

'Thanks, but no thanks,' Anya told him. 'That wasn't a good idea when spike and I did it. It had it's up-side, though. Anyway, I thought you were looking for Dawn?'

'My TV blew up.'

'Have you tried just calling the repair guy?'

'There was a hand sticking out of it,' Clem explained.

'Oh,' Anya remarked. 'Well, Dawn's probably at home.'

'Thought of that,' Clem said, 'but I hate to think what her dad'll do if I show up there.'

'Point,' Anya agreed. 'Wait, have you tried Wesley. He was trying to get everyone together earlier on. She's probably there by now.'

'Worth a look,' Clem agreed. 'You want to come along? Might help you take your mind of…stuff.'

'Thanks,' Anya replied. 'I'll…'

Clem sniffed the air.

'What is it?' Anya asked.

'Something smells…odd,' Clem replied, wandering towards the back of the shop, nose in the air.

'Odd?' Anya got up and followed him. The kitten jumped off of the table and followed in her wake.

'What was in this jar?' Clem asked, pointing to the shattered remains on the floor. Green slime was still oozing down the drain.

'Don't touch it,' Anya warned. She quickly fetched some gloves and a cloth and began wiping up the mess. 'Damn, Trix was supposed to do the clean-up tonight and…well, I guess I'm going to have to start getting into a new routine, aren't I.'

'I hate to say it, but some of that goop got into the sewer,' Clem pointed out. 'Please tell me that's not a bad thing.'

'It's not a bad thing,' Anya replied.

'You're lying, aren't you.'

'Is it that obvious?'

* * *

'Why is it that the face you went to bed with is always more attractive than the one you wake up to?' Trix asked, opening on eye.

'Trix, you're okay,' Drew announced.

'Let's not go overboard. I'm alive and that'll have to do for now. Move!'

The rat leaped at them, but the pair diver out of the way.

'That's the way out,' Drew said, pointing. 'Think you can make it up there?'

'On foot, not a chance,' Trix admitted. 'But there are other options. Think you can keep ratboy busy for me?'

Trix ran off without waiting for an answer.

'Hey, you dropped…never mind.' Drew scooped up the deck of playing cards that had fallen from Trix's jacket pocket. Then he turned his attention to the giant rat. 'Hey fur-face, over here!'

The rat looked at him. There was something evil in those beady eyes, Drew just knew there was.

'Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you,' Drew continued. 'You owe me a new camera.'

The rat showed its teeth.

'On second thoughts, let's just chalk this one up to experience, okay?'

The rat lunged at Drew, but had to pull to an abrupt halt as a motorbike skidded between them.

'I said keep him busy, not feed him lunch,' Trix scolded Drew. 'Now get on.'

Drew jumped aboard and Trix gunned the engine.

'Hold on tight,' he yelled.

The bike rocketed up the slope, leaving the rat eating its dust.

* * *

'Dammit!' 

Wesley slammed the phone down in it's cradled. The handset jumped back out and tumbled to the floor. Wesley stared at it as I bent down to pick it up.

'I can't get hold of any of the others,' he confessed, running a hand through his hair. 'We're on our own.'

I looked at him. Then I laughed.

'Maybe I'm missing something,' Wesley said, 'but I'm not finding very much to laugh about right now.'

'Sorry,' I said, trying to compose myself, 'it's just us. I mean, look at us. The disgraced Watcher and the Slayer's baby sister. Nothing like sending in the reserve team, is there?'

Wesley smiled.

'Well,' he said, exhaling loudly, 'if it was good enough for Buffy and Rupert then I guess we'll just have to make the best of it.'

'Course, it would help if we knew where to look,' I said.

'I think I can help with that.'

We both looked up at the newcomer.

'Door was open,' Janice explained.

'Jan,' I said, 'we were worried about you.'

'I feel tempted to give you the same lecture I gave Dawn about wandering outside by yourself,' Wesley scolded her, 'but I'm just glad to see that you're all right.'

'I'm fine,' Janice assured us. 'Whatever that thing is out there, it doesn't seem to want to get near me. You don't think I smell funny or something, do you?'

'No worse than usual,' I said.

'There is something different about you, though,' Wesley mused. 'Nice necklace, by the way.'

I hadn't even noticed it when Janice had first arrived. She was wearing a five pointed star, point upwards, on a simple silver chain.

'Thanks,' Janice said. 'Tabby gave it to me.'

'Who's Tabby?' I asked.

'A friend,' Janice replied.

'I think we're drifting off topic, here,' Wesley pointed out. 'Janice, you said that you had a way to find this gestalt.'

'Is that what we're calling it this week?' Janice asked. 'All I know is that I'm connected to something. It's like the power grid across Sunnydale, but it's like a living thing and I can see it.'

'Go on,' Wesley encouraged her.

'Well, it's like this energy glows white, okay,' Janice continued, 'but there's a dark spot in it and the rest of the energy doesn't like it.'

'And you think that dark spot is the gestalt,' Wesley deduced. 'It's not an unreasonable summation.' 

He crossed the room and unlocked a tall wooden cabinet, like a wardrobe. It was full of weapons. 

'Do you have a preference?' he asked me.

'Well, I've handled a sword before,' I admitted.

'Hmm, this one should suit, I think,' he said, reaching for one at the back. 'You'll need to defend yourself out there.'

I looked at the weapon sceptically.

'Those people out there are possessed,' I said. 'They don't really mean to do what they're doing. I don't want to hurt them.'

'I second that,' Janice said.

'Listen to me, both of you,' Wesley insisted. 'Yes, those people are possessed, but that doesn't mean that they won't really try and kill you. You need to be able to fight back.'

'You mean kill them before they kill us.'

'If you like,' Wesley agreed. 'Listen, I don't want to kill anyone any more than you do, but if it's a choice between them and us, then we have to choose us.'

'Why?' Janice asked. 'What sets us up above the rest?'

'Because we may be the only people that can stop this,' Wesley explained, 'and we can't do that if we're dead. Now, are you going to take the sword or not?'

I took the sword.

'Now, what about you, Janice.'

'I've never had to use a weapon before,' she replied. 'Well, nothing larger than a water pistol anyway.'

'I see.' Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose and then reached inside the cabinet. 'Try this.'

'What is it?' Janice asked as she took it from him.

'It's an adze,' Wesley explained. 'It's probably my favourite weapon in there. Look after it for me, won't you.'

Janice nodded.

Wesley reached back inside the cabinet, slung a crossbow over his shoulder and hefted a wicked-looking spiked mace in both hands.

'Well, I guess we're all set,' he said. 'At least we won't have to worry about anyone noticing us wondering around fully armed. I just wish there were more than three of us.'

'There are.'

'What in heaven's name…' Wesley began.

'Closer than you think,' I told him.

'I thought you could use my help,' Zauriel said.

'Is he…' Janice whispered to me.

'Yep,' I whispered back.

'Wow.'

'My name is Zauriel,' Zauriel said to Wesley.

'That's all very well,' Wesley blustered, 'but I'm afraid we don't really know…'

'I'll vouch for him, Wes,' I interrupted. 'Zauriel's a friend.'

'Any more secrets you've been keeping?' Wesley asked.

'You're not my Watcher,' I shot back.

Wesley frowned.

'We were just arming ourselves, Zauriel,' he said. 'Can I get you anything?'

'I have my own weapons,' Zauriel replied.

I chewed thoughtfully on my lower lip.

'Can I talk to you in private for a minute, Zauriel?' I said. 'Much as we'd appreciate you coming with us, I think you can be more use elsewhere. There's someone I'd like you to find for me.'

* * *

'That's enough,' Halfrek snapped. 'Say something like that again and I might just have to act on it.'

Chrissie opened her mouth to speak.

'Don't you dare,' Halfrek said. 'I don't want to have to use force, but better unconscious than dead, you get me?'

'But…but I deserve to die,' Chrissie protested.

'Honey, I've been around a long time,' Halfrek replied, 'and I've seen plenty of people who deserved to die. Trust me, you just don't compare.'

'You don't know,' Chrissie insisted.

'Then talk to me,' Halfrek pleaded. 'Listen, I'll make a deal with you, okay? You tell me what's going on, all of it, and if you still want me to kill you when it's all over…well, I guess I'm not going to have much of a choice either way. What do you say, huh?'

'He's here,' Chrissie began, 'in this room with us.'

'I don't see anyone,' Halfrek said. 'Who's here?'

'My baby,' Chrissie replied.

* * *

'This way,' Wesley shouted.

'But we need to get over there,' Janice protested as we ran.

'Then we'll just have to go the long way round,' Wesley called back, fighting for breath, 'or didn't you notice the people.'

Oh, we'd noticed all right. How could we miss the people dancing on top of the burning cars, tearing pieces out of each other in return for the favour of a deceased loved one.

'This is for Kirsten,' a man shouted before throwing himself out of a second storey window. He landed on top of me and we both rolled out onto the road.

'Why did she have to die?' the man snarled at me, spittle spraying into my face. 'Why couldn't it have been you? It should have been you.'

He rammed a broken bottle into my face. I turned away, but could still feel the burn where it sliced into my cheek.

'This is for Kirsten,' he shouted. 'This is to make it right again.'

I tried to crawl away, but he grabbed a handful of my hair and dragged me back. I could feel the sharp edge of the bottle against my throat.

'Dawn!' Janice screamed.

'Dawn, the sword,' Wesley yelled. 'Use your sword.'

My fingers scuttled over the tarmac and clenched around the sword hilt.

'Tell Kirsten I love her,' the man said.

He forced the broken glass inwards.

'Dawn, no!' Janice screamed again.

I lifted the sword and rammed it backwards, deep into the man's chest and out the other side.

The pressure on my throat eased and he let go of my hair.

I turned to face him. Blood was trickling from the corners of his mouth and he stared at me with sightless eyes. With a wet, sucking sound, he slowly slid off of the blade of my sword.

Hot tears ran freely down my face.

'Oh God, what have I done?' I moaned.

'What you had to do?' Wesley told me.

'But he was innocent,' I insisted. 'He was just a victim, but I killed him.'

'It was life or death,' Wesley said. 'You didn't have a choice.'

'There's always a choice,' I replied softly. 'Buffy told me that it wasn't about the slaying, it was about the saving. But who's going to save him now?'

* * *

'You have a child?' Halfrek asked Chrissie.

Chrissie shook her head.

'Not anymore,' she replied. 'I…I don't know if I can do this.'

Halfrek took hold of her hand.

'Just take your time, Chrissie,' she said. 'I'm not here to judge you, just to listen.'

Chrissie tried to smile, but she couldn't sustain it. She looked down at her feet, at her black boots with the many buckles. The buckles reflected what little light there was in the room, twinkling like tiny stars.

'I was fourteen,' Chrissie began. 'You wouldn't have recognised me. I used to have these curls down to hear and I was big on these floral print designs, which were just the height of ugh. And I really struggled to talk to anybody. I had this stammer, see, and I was shy, so shy it hurt. Shy and naive.

'He was in the year above me and he was in the football team and all the girls wanted him. And yes, that included me. But like he was never going to even look at me, right. I mean, it wasn't as if I was even on the cheerleading squad. Heck, I didn't even have the guts to try out. So I wasn't exactly expecting to turn heads. And then one night, after school, he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride with him.

'Oh God.'

Chrissie began tugging at her hair with her free hand. Halfrek took hold of the hand and held it close. She looked Chrissie in her tear-filled eyes.

'Go on, Chrissie,' she encouraged quietly. 'I know it hurts, but I know you need to tell someone. Might as well be me, right, honey?'

Chrissie nodded. She tried to speak, but found that her voice had escaped her. She coughed to clear her throat.

'He had borrowed his dad's car,' she continued, her voice reed-thin and barely audible. 'I don't know what sort it was. I wasn't really into cars back then. Still, I remember it was red, some kind of sporty convertible. And I remember the leather seats because they squeaked when I sat on them and when we…And I remember the way they smelled. God, I still remember the smell.

'We drove out to the woods. There was a spot there that overlooked the town. It was supposed to be romantic. I guess maybe it was at the time. And then he suggested we get into the back seat and…I should have said no. That's all I had to do, but I didn't. I can't believe I could be so stupid, but I thought that was what boys and girls did. That's what Jules was always telling us she and Glen got up to so I thought it must be okay, right? And even when it hurt I just assumed that it must be me, that I was doing something wrong.'

Halfrek closed her eyes. 'Oh Chrissie, I didn't know.'

'I went straight home and I showered,' Chrissie told her. 'And then I showered some more, but I couldn't seem to get clean. I couldn't see anything, but I knew that I was still dirty. I just knew, you understand. And I felt so ashamed and I didn't know why. I didn't know why. And I went into school the next day and he wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even look at me. But everyone else did. Everyone else was staring at me like I was a freak and I knew they were right, but I still didn't understand why and I didn't have anyone to talk to about it. I just wanted to talk to someone, but I didn't have anyone I felt I could turn to.

'But that wasn't the worst of it. It wasn't long before I started getting sick. At first, I couldn't work out what was wrong, but somewhere, deep down, I think I always knew. And the test confirmed it. I was pregnant.'

* * *

'Are you sure about this?' Clem asked.

'You saw the way the amulet reacted,' Anya said, holding up the stone that still glowed an angry red. 'Something down there reacted with the ooze and this way we can track it.'

'But if it's down in the sewer, shouldn't we be down there too?' Clem pointed out.

'We can track it just as well from up here,' Anya responded, 'and this way I don't have to ruin these nice new shoes.'

'Well, if you're sure…' Clem said dubiously.

'Of course I'm not sure,' Anya snapped. 'This is the sort of thing Buffy's supposed to do. Or Willow. Even Xander might be able to take charge, but I'm not used to it, okay? I'm just trying to do the best I can.'

'I'm sorry,' Clem replied. 'I sure you…'

He was cut of by a scream.

'It came from over there,' he said, pointing.

'Well, what are we waiting for?' Anya asked.

* * *

Ruth screamed. Then one of her attackers struck her with a baseball bat, knocking the air from her lungs. There were three of them, two men and a woman. She had spotted them as she was running across the park and thought that they might be able to help her. She couldn't have been more wrong.

She fell to her knees, gasping for breath. One of the men grabbed her by the hair, yanking her up so hard he almost pulled it out at the roots.

'You think you're so much better than her, don't you,' he said to her. 'So much prettier. That's why you think you deserve to live instead of her. You disgust me.'

Then he slammed her face into the dirt.

'I lost my poor Raymond,' the woman purred, standing over her, one foot either side, 'but trash like you gets to live.'

She raked her nails down Ruth's cheek, drawing blood.

'Finish her off,' she said to the man with the baseball bat. 'She's nothing. She's nobody. Not like my Raymond.'

'Or my Lillian,' said the other man.

'Or my Judith,' the man with the bat agreed, raising his arm to swing.

The bat descended, then stopped, caught by the hand of a blonde woman.

'That's not how nice people behave,' she said, yanking the bat away from him. Then she slammed the heel of her other hand into his nose, sending him flying backwards into the distance.

'Running would be a good idea right about now,' another figure said.

Ruth looked up at him and gulped. He was huge and he was covered in folds of creamy white skin, as if he were wearing the skin of an even larger man.

'I don't want to hurt you,' he continued.

'How could you hurt us anymore than we hurt already?' the woman who had scratched Ruth demanded.

The other man began raining punches down upon the man with the excess skin, but he didn't seem to notice.

'Hold this for me would you,' he said, stooping to pass the kitten he was holding to Ruth. Then he stood back up. 'I said I didn't want to hurt you.'

Then he picked the man up by the collar of his shirt and hurled him away.

He turned to the woman. 

'Boo.'

She turned and fled. One of her heels broke as she ran so she tore off her shoes and continued her flight in stockinged feet.

'Who…who are you people,' Ruth asked, holding the kitten close to her. At least that seemed normal.

'I'm Anya and the big guy's Clem,' the blonde explained. 'We're here to help you.'

'Help me?' Ruth asked. 'But…but you're not normal, are you?'

'Now you're just trying to hurt my feelings,' Clem said.

'We're also not the people who tried to kill you,' Anya pointed out. 'Would you rather be with them?'

'I guess not,' Ruth conceded, getting up.

'What are you doing out here by yourself?' Clem asked.

'I was caving,' Ruth explained, 'but there was a rock fall and we got trapped, me and Drew.'

'Drew?' Clem repeated. 'That wouldn't be Drew Kowalski, would it?'

'Uh huh,' Ruth confirmed. 'You know him?'

Clem nodded.

'He's still down there,' Ruth said. 'I was trying to get help, but there was this giant rat and this guy with horns…'

'Trix?' Anya exclaimed. She grabbed Ruth and started shaking her. 'Where were they?'

'Hey, let go,' Ruth snapped, struggling in Anya's grip.

Clem put a hand on Anya's shoulder. 'It's okay, Anya. Now let the girl go.'

Any did so.

'Now,' Clem said to Ruth, 'can you show us where they are?'

* * *

'I told my aunt first,' Chrissie said. 'I couldn't face my parents so she did it for me. You can imagine what that was like. All the accusations and the tears and the finger pointing and that look on their faces. The shame and the disappointment. All I could think about was how badly I'd let them down. I wasn't worried about me or about the baby. I was worried about what I'd done to them. Talk about skewed priorities, right? But that's just the way it was.

'Dad took charge. Mom wouldn't speak to me. Wouldn't even look at me. It was a very long time before we could even be civil to each other again. I don't think we're ever going to be able to do any more than that again. She quit her job over me. Said she couldn't bear to see that judgmental look on other people's faces, you know, the same look she was giving me. Dad took me out of school and took me to see the specialist. I was examined, probed and no one would tell me what was going on. Not the doctors, not my dad. They had all these discussions behind closed doors, discussions about me, about my baby, but they didn't talk to me about it, wouldn't talk to me.

'And then it was all decided. I was going to have an abortion and that would be the end of it. And I could have protested, I could have fought, but I just kept flashing back to that look in my parents' eyes and knew that I couldn't bring myself to hurt them any more. So I just meekly went along with it and I killed my baby.

'What kind of a person does that make me?'

* * *

There was still blood on my sword. Wesley had given me a rag to clean it with, but no matter how hard I wiped, I could still see the blood. So much blood.

'So, what do you think of my idea?' Janice asked.

'Sorry?' I said, not quite hearing her.

'No, I'm sorry,' Janice said, stepping closer. 'I guess you're still a bit distracted, right?'

'That's one way of putting it,' I replied.

'Dawn, I now this is hard for you,' Janice said, 'but you can't break down. Not now. When this is all over, we can talk about this. We'll work through it. Together. I promise. But right now, we need you to be strong. We need you to focus. Can you do that for me?'

'I'll try,' I said.

'That's all I can ask,' Janice replied. 'So, about my plan?'

'It's a good plan,' I told her, 'with one major flaw. You can't cast spells without Chrissie and she's nowhere to be found.'

'She'll be here,' Janice said. 'Trust me.'

'I wish I shared your confidence,' I replied.

Janice stopped suddenly and put a hand to her head.

'Jan, are you okay?' I asked.

'Sorry, just a little dizzy,' she replied, straightening up. 'I think this is the place.'

I looked directly ahead at the structure before us. Spike's…no, Clem's crypt.

'Figures,' I muttered.

There was howling in the distance.

'What was that?' Janice asked.

'Trouble,' Wesley replied darkly as the howling sounded again, louder and closer.

'Look, over there,' I cried, pointing into the distance.

'Wolves,' Wesley said, confirming my suspicions.

'Wolves? In Sunnydale?' Janice queried.

'You stay in this game long enough you'll find nothing surprises you anymore,' Wesley told her. 'Now get in the crypt. I'll hold them off.'

'By yourself?'

'Just get in the crypt,' Wesley snapped. 'I'm not important. Just stop this thing.'

Janice hung back so I took her by the hand and forced her too look at me.

'It's up to us now,' I told her.

She nodded and we stepped inside.

* * *

'Wakey, wakey, Dormouse.'

Piv opened one bleary eye. Lisa was gently shaking her awake.

'What time is it?' she asked, sitting up on the couch and wiping drool from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

'Time you were in a proper bed, sleepy-head,' Lisa told her.

'Okay,' Piv muttered dreamily as she stood up. 'Aren't you coming?'

Lisa shook her head. 'Mrs Clemens said I could stay up to watch the late film. Night, Dormouse.'

'Night, Lis,' Piv replied.

She waddled slowly up the stairs, yawning. She was almost knocked off her feet as Helena came rushing past her.

'Hey, Helena, what's the rush?' Piv asked. 'You watching the film, too?'

'It's my sister?' Helena replied.

'I didn't know you had a sister.'

'Alicia,' Helena affirmed. 'She's dead now. And he killed her. He killed her and I'm going to make him pay. I'm going to make everything right again.'

* * *

'We moved here,' Chrissie continued, 'and I was enrolled in a new school, somewhere where nobody knew me. And I was just expected to start over, like nothing had happened. But how was I supposed to do that? Tell me, how am I supposed to pretend it never happened when I can hear him calling to me when I close my eyes at night?'

'I don't know, Chrissie,' Halfrek admitted. 'I don't have all the answers. But I do know you're wrong to tear yourself up over it.'

'But I killed him,' Chrissie protested. 'How am I supposed to get past that?'

'You killed a small bunch of cells,' Halfrek told her. 'I know that's not what you want to hear, but you need to put a little perspective on this. It just isn't the same as killing child. And if you are ever going to move on from this then that's something you're just going to get your head around.'

'And if I can't?' Chrissie asked.

'You will,' Helena replied. 'You're a tough cookie, Chrissie. You've been through more than anyone should ever have to go through and you're still fighting. You can get through this.

'I know it's hard, but you've got to believe that you did the right thing. If you had had the baby then what then? What kind of life could you have given it? And looking past that, what about you? What would have happened to you? What kind of future could you have looked forward to?'

'Are you saying I should put my own needs above that of my baby?'

'Chrissie, if you'd gone into this knowing what you were doing then I'd be the first person to say you should have to live with the consequences of your mistakes,' Halfrek pressed, 'but you didn't. You couldn't. Chrissie, you were just a child. You're still just a child. Don't start beating yourself up for not behaving like an adult. Believe me, there'll be plenty of time for that later.'

'You think…you think I did the right thing?' Chrissie asked.

'It's not about what I think,' Halfrek told her. 'It's what you think, that counts. Are you ready to move on and live your life?'

'I don't know,' Chrissie replied. 'I want to. I mean, I've got friends now, real friends, but I don't know if I trust myself enough to open up to them.'

'Try it,' Halfrek suggested. 'They may surprise you.'

'And then there's Drew,' Chrissie said. 'I almost lost him because I didn't trust him. I thought that all men were the same, that they were just out there to hurt me, but Drew's different. I think he really cares, you know, but I keep pushing him away.'

'Honey, good men don't come along very often,' Halfrek said, 'take it from someone who's seen her share. When they do, you've got to hang on to them and fight for them or they'll just slip through your fingers. And you can't live your whole life regretting the road not taken.'

Chrissie nodded.

'So are we cool now or what?' Halfrek asked.

'There's just one thing,' Chrissie said. 'You're a justice demon, right?'

'Yes,' Halfrek confirmed.

'And that means you grant wishes?'

'That's pretty simplistic, but basically yeah,' Halfrek agreed.

'So if I wish to have my baby back you could do it, right?' Chrissie persisted.

'Honey, power over life and death isn't something to be trifled with,' Halfrek warned.

'But you could do it,' Chrissie said, 'couldn't you?'

* * *

'Trix!' Anya shouted as the motorbike pulled to a halt in front of them.

'Anya?' the demon called back. 'What are you doing out here.'

'Looking for you,' Anya explained.

'Well, among other things,' Clem admitted.

'Ruth,' Drew shouted. 'I thought…I didn't know what to think. I didn't know if you made it out okay or…'

'Or if I'd turned into rat food?' Ruth finished for him. 'Guess I'm tougher than I look. But then, so are you. Looks like you didn't need my help after all.'

'Um, I wouldn't quite say that,' Drew confessed.

'What do you mean?' Ruth asked.

'Oh dear,' Clem said, looking passed them. 'You didn't tell me that goop could do that.'

'What goop?' Trix asked.

'There was a smashed jar in the Magic Box,' Anya explained. 'The contents got into the sewers and interfered with the local wildlife.'

'Interfered?' Trix repeated. 'Are you telling me this is all your fault?'

'Hey, don't blame me,' Anya shot back. 'If you'd bothered to clean up properly like you were supposed to.'

'Um, guys,' Drew interrupted, 'now might not be the best time for recriminations.'

'In other words,' Ruth said as the giant rat thundered towards them, 'run!'

* * *

I had to shield my eyes as we entered the crypt. It was filled with a bright violet light. Energy cracked and buzzed around us. It was like being trapped at the centre of a thunderstorm.

And at the eye of the storm stood two familiar figures, hand in hand. Willow and Drusilla cocked their heads towards each other, so that they hair touched, and smiled at us.

'Oh, look who's come to play with us, Miss Edith. It's little Dawnie, and she's brought a friend.'

When they spoke, they spoke in harmony, their voices overlapping and warping together. They walked towards us as perfect mirrors of one another, too.

'We're here to stop you,' I said defiantly, though I took a step closer to Janice as I said it.

'Stop us?' They laughed. 'There aren't enough of you to stop us.'

'I thought you said Chrissie was going to be here,' I whispered to Janice.

'She will be,' Janice insisted. 'We just need more time.'

'I think we may have run out,' I replied.

'We're very disappointed in you, Dawnie,' Willow and Drusilla continued. 'We felt so sure that you would help us. There's so much anger in you. See, you already have blood on your hands.'

I dropped the sword as if it had bitten me.

'You can't hide from what you are, Dawnie,' they continued. 'You're a little monster, just like us.'

'No,' I whimpered.

'Oh yes you are,' they purred, running their hands over my cheeks. Drusilla found the cut in my cheek from the broken bottle and raised her bloody fingers to Willow's mouth. 

'So sweet,' they moaned. 'So rich.'

'Leave her alone!' Janice shouted.

'Or what, little one?' they demanded. 'Oh, we know we can't touch you, not yet anyway, but we also know that you can't harm us, not without your other half. You're powerless here, little one. How does it feel to know that there's nothing you can do to save your friend?'

'I won't let you harm her!' Janice raised the adze and brought it down on Drusilla's skull. The blade passed harmlessly through her.

'You don't have a choice,' Willow and Drusilla continued.

They turned their attentions back to me.

'You're all alone now, Dawnie,' they taunted me, 'just like your sister was. You could have helped her. You could have saved her. But you walked away and you let her die. You let me, you let us, take her. And now here you are, ready to stand in her place. Do you really think anyone's going to help you?'

And then I smiled because I could hear the beating of wings behind me.

'Yes,' I told them, 'yes I do?'

'I'm here, Dawn,' Zauriel said.

I nodded, but he wasn't the person I was interested in. My attention was taken up by the man he had brought with him. Drusilla had seen him to and her eyes were as wide as dinner-plates. It was a gamble and I could only pray that my gamble paid off.

'Hello, pet,' Spike said.


	11. Willow

****

11. Willow

'Run!' Trix shouted. 'We'll lead it off.'

'Run where?' Anya shouted back.

The rat was practically on top of them. It was not very fast in and of itself, but its size meant that it could cover large distances in very few steps.

'Why couldn't you be a fire-breathing demon,' Drew asked Trix, 'or have some other useful power?'

'Sorry to be such a disappointment,' Trix retorted. 'But look on the bright side, kid. You're not going to be disappointed much longer.'

'You know, of all the ways I thought I might go,' Drew commented, 'being rat food wasn't even on the list.'

Trix grunted.

'Life's full of surprises.'

'You mean like that?'

Trix followed the line of Drew's finger. A car was roaring up the hill towards them. It swerved to a stop and Xander stuck his head out of the driver's window.

'Get in,' he ordered.

Ruth, Clem and Anya piled in and Xander floored the accelerator even as the doors were still closing.

'Hang on,' Xander said, 'I'm still not used to handling this thing.'

'I didn't know you could drive,' Anya said, 'I mean, not since your…accident.'

'What, you thought I was just going to roll off into the sunset?' Xander replied.

'But you never said.'

'You think I'm proud of this thing?' Xander demanded. 'You think I like being reminded that I'm a cripple.'

'Xander, you're not a cripple,' Anya insisted.

Xander shook his head.

'Guess I'd better get used to it.'

Anya reached across and brushed her fingers against the back of his hand.

'You came back for me,' she said.

'Yeah,' Xander replied, 'I guess I did.'

* * *

They pulled up in front of the house on Wigmore Street. Ruth needed a change of clothes and it was a good a place to regroup as any. While Ruth disappeared inside, the others gathered around Xander's car.

'Anyone got any bright ideas?' Drew asked.

'What we need,' Anya suggested, 'is a really big cat to eat the rat.'

'And what do we do with Kitten Kong once it's been fed?' Xander asked. 'Or do we have a really big dog waiting in reserve?'

'Well, I'm sorry,' Anya shot back indignantly. 'I was only suggesting.'

'No, I'm sorry, Ann,' Xander apologised tiredly. 'It's not like I've got any better ideas.'

'Well, I'm sure you'll come up with something,' Trix said as he revved the engine of his motorcycle.

'Hey, where do you think you're going?' Xander demanded.

Trix shrugged. 'Away. Be seeing you.'

'Hold up,' Drew shouted. 'You forgot your cards.'

He held up the pack he had found earlier.

'Thanks, kid,' Trix said, reaching out to take them back.

Drew kept a firm hold on them.

'What happened to paying your debts?' he asked. 'I saved your life tonight.'

'And if it wasn't for me, you'd still be down in that cave with fur-face,' Trix pointed out. 'I'd say we're even.'

He tried to pull the cards away, but Drew's grip was firm.

'Are you a gambling man, Trix?' he asked.

'What are you driving at?'

'A game,' Drew explained. 'If you win, you get to ride off with your tail between your legs, but if I win then you agree to help us.'

Trix shrugged. 

'Why not?' he said.

'I don't believe you,' Anya said. 'You're going to let your life be determined by…by pure chance?'

'And your point is?' Trix asked. 'It's no worse than any other system I've found, certainly better than running your life based on a lady's favour.' He turned back to Drew. 'Let's keep things simple. Highest card wins. Deal?'

'Deal?' Drew agreed.

Trix turned over the top card of the pack. It was the Ace of Spades.

'Guess I won't be staying after all,' he said.

* * *

Ruth had barely stepped inside the door when Piv grabbed her.

'Hey, what's up, Dormouse?' Ruth asked. 'I'm in kind of a hurry to hit the shower.'

'It's Helena,' Piv explained hurriedly. 'I think…I think she's going to hurt someone.'

* * *

'Don't speak too soon,' Drew said, trying to sound confident. He reached for the next card. He hadn't lost yet, but the chances of him winning were…

He turned over the Ace of Diamonds and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

'Guess we try again,' he said. 'I'll go first this time.'

He flipped over the Seven of Clubs.

'Hmm, not bad,' Trix mused.

His fingers danced in the air above the pack, like an eagle circling its prey. Then they shot down and turned the uppermost card.

'What is it?' Anya cried. 'I can't see.'

Drew folded his arms triumphantly.

'Do you want to tell her or shall I?' he asked.

'Three of Diamonds,' Trix said flatly as he climbed off of his bike. 'Looks like I'm joining the ranks of the pest controllers.'

'Lucky us,' Xander muttered.

Ruth came running out of the house.

'Hey, I thought you were going to get changed,' Drew said.

'No time,' she told him. 'Drew, I need your help. Helena…my friend…she's gone crazy.'

'Helena?' Drew repeated. 'You don't mean Helena Joslin, do you?'

'You know her?'

'She's a friend of a friend,' Drew explained.

'Yeah, well, whatever,' Ruth continued. 'She's been going on about her sister and how she's going to make some guy pay.'

Drew considered.

'Her sister committed suicide,' he recalled, 'because of what her dad did to her.'

'You don't think she's going after him, do you?' Ruth said. 'Isn't he locked up?'

'His wife posted bail,' Drew explained. Ruth frowned at him so he continued. 'One of my other friends has a sister who's a lawyer. She's been keeping tabs on the case for us.'

'You know where this guy lives?' Ruth asked. Drew nodded. 'Then you're coming with me.' 

She pushed Trix to one side.

''Scuse me, I need your ride,' she said.

'Sorry,' Drew offered to Trix as he jumped up behind Ruth.

'I didn't know you could ride a motorbike?' he said to Ruth.

'Yeah, because you know so much about me,' Ruth muttered. 'Just hold on tight.'

* * *

'I'll take it from here, little bit.'

Spike put a hand on my shoulder as he stepped in front of me. He was wearing black pants and a black shirt with several buttons undone.

'Who's that?' Janice whispered to me.

'You can see him?' I asked.

'Just about,' she admitted, 'but it's a real strain on the eyes. Is he a ghost?'

I nodded. 'That's Spike. Sometimes he's a friend, sometimes he's a murderous psychopath, but he was also Drusilla's lover for a hundred years.

'Some girls get all the luck,' Janice muttered.

'I knew you'd come back to me, my little Spike,' Drusilla purred. 'I knew that Slayer couldn't keep us apart forever.'

'More's the pity,' Spike retorted.

Drusilla hesitated.

'Why are you being so hurtful, love?' she asked, sashaying towards him. 'You're just teasing us, aren't you? Punishing me for abandoning you. But I've learnt my lesson, Spike, really we have.'

Spike laughed, causing Drusilla to take a step backwards.

'You really don't get it, do you, Dru?' he said. 'You were a mistake. You were the biggest mistake I ever made.'

'But…but I made you,' Drusilla pointed out.

'And that,' Spike replied, 'is the bloody problem.'

* * *

Dad was cruising slowly around Sunnydale searching for me. More than once he checked to make sure that the car doors were locked. Scenes like these were only played out on the news, not in a quiet little town like this. He had tried phoning the police, but the lines kept ringing out. Given what he was seeing, he suspected they had their hands full.

A brick crashed into his windshield, causing cracks to cobweb out across the glass. Dad slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a halt at the side of the road. Blood pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out the shouts coming from outside. Now what was he going to do? He couldn't stay in the car indefinitely, but he wasn't about to step outside either.

Hands slammed down on top of the car. Dad could see bodies pressed against the windows. Then the car began to shake and he reached out to brace himself. Someone was pounding on the rear window, but it held. For now. Then the car tipped over.

Dad was hanging upside down, held in place by his seatbelt. And someone was kicking at the window of the driver's door. Dad unbuckled the belt with one hand, using his other arm to protect his head as he collapsed against the roof. Then he tried to crawl into the back of the car. 

The window behind him shattered, spraying him with shards of glass, and hands reached inside the car and dragged him, kicking and yelling, out on to the street.

* * *

'Spike?' Drusilla said. 'Why are you being so mean? Bad puppy.'

Spike laughed again. 'Of course, it's all my fault, isn't it? Let me tell you a story, Dru, about a man named William. William was a poet. Not a great poet, but William was trying to create things of beauty.'

'Poor baby Spikey was a fool,' Drusilla snapped. 'We remember him, remember the taste. His blood was weak and thin, not rich like the prince we dreamed of.'

'Sorry I didn't live up to your expectations, love,' Spike replied, 'but if you will just drag anybody off the street…'

'Oh, but you did,' Drusilla purred. He hands wafted in Spike's direction, as if she were trying to stroke him without actually touching him. 'You were wonderful. You grew up to be a thing of dark beauty even better than we had imagined. You were the one, the perfect man. We always knew that.'

'That why you ran off with that Chaos Demon?' Spike asked.

Drusilla pouted.

'We can't all be perfect,' she said defensively, 'not like dear little Spikey. I was jealous and angry and upset and we didn't understand that that disgusting Slayer had used her powers to seduce you.'

'Too right,' Spike agreed. 'Should never underestimate a Slayer's 'powers'. She didn't want me, you daft bint, not at first anyway. I wanted her. I needed her so badly it hurt.'

'She charmed you with her wicked ways.'

'Wicked ways?' Spike laughed. 'Dru, pet, I know you don't exactly live on the same planet as the rest of us, but would you listen to yourself? Buffy was everything pure and good that I wasn't. But I want to be. She was one of those beautiful creatures William used to try and capture with words. She was a glimpse of the life I should have had, but never would. Thanks to you.'

'She would never have loved William,' Drusilla spat. 'No one would have ever loved William.'

'Maybe not,' Spike agreed, 'but at least he knew how to love.'

'We loved,' Drusilla insisted. 'The stars were witness to it. The cherubs danced and the lions told the crickets how much we loved.'

'No,' Spike told her. 'I don't know the word, but it wasn't love. Love is pure and giving and you and I were never pure, love.'

'We made you,' Drusilla snarled. 'We showed you sights of which you could only dream, the painted butterflies sipping from their floral cups, ignorant of the true powers in their midst. That was us. We owned the world, held it in our hands like a glittering Christmas bauble. Don't you remember how wonderful it was, like drinking champagne when all the bubbles go up your nose? It was magical. We were magical, like angels fallen from heaven. And I made it all possible for you.'

'You made me, all right,' Spike agreed. 'You killed all that was worthwhile and good in me.'

* * *

'You know, I envy them,' Anya said.

'And on behalf of everyone else here,' Xander replied. 'I say, huh?'

The four of them - Clem, Anya, Xander and Trix - were driving around Sunnydale in Xander's car. They weren't going anywhere in particular, but by unanimous consent they had decided that it beat sitting around in one place. Sunnydale looked like a war-zone. Fires burned, cars were abandoned in the middle of the street and spontaneous fighting was breaking out wherever they looked.

'I don't envy that teenager who had her head stoved in,' Trix added.

'Well, no,' Anya conceded, 'but just think about it for a moment. They're so caught up in their little bout of gratuitous violence that they are completely oblivious to what's really going on around them.'

'Whereas we get to revel in the full uncut version,' Xander said.

Clem raised a hand. 'Am I the only one clamouring for a PG-13 edit.'

The kitten in his lap mewed plaintively.

'Guess that means the motion's carried,' Trix commented.

'We should do something,' Anya said, her face pressed against the window.

'Like what?' Xander asked. 'In case you hadn't noticed, they outnumber us about ten thousand to one.'

'But the odds are getting better all the time,' Trix pointed out morbidly.

'But it's all so…horrible,' Anya protested.

'Horrible?' Xander repeated. 'This from the girl who spent the last thousand years inflicting grizzly vengeances on men.'

'That was different,' Anya insisted. 'I empower women. I allow them to act out their desires. But it's always their choice. This…none of them chose this. It's…it's just wrong.'

'I know, honey,' Xander said softly, 'I know.'

'Moving as all this is,' Trix interrupted, 'don't we have a bigger problem? And I do mean a _bigger_ problem.'

'Ah yes, our friend Rizzo,' Xander agreed. 'Anyone got a swimming pool of rat poison stashed in their backyard?'

'A giant mousetrap?' Clem suggested. 'We could bait it with the town's entire cheese supply?'

'Now you're just being silly,' Xander told him.

'Sorry,' Clem replied. ' Just trying to enter into the spirit of things.'

'Whatever happened to the good old days of vampire slaying?' Anya mused. 'Then we just staked everything.'

The three guys stared at her, then turned and stared at each other.

'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' they said in unison.

* * *

The wolf's howls became gurgles as a crossbow bolt lodged in its throat.

Wesley was crouched down on one knee by the entrance to the crypt, his crossbow cradled in his arms. The sky was filling with clouds, which obscured the moonlight. He had a torch with him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to make out the wolves as they stalked closer. It would not be long before he would have to just fire in the direction of any sound and pray.

No sooner had he loaded another bolt than he aimed and let fly. He was rewarded by the sound of another wolf's death throes.

Then he tensed. He froze, not even daring to breathe. Something was close by. He could hear it padding through the grass, smell its fur. In one fluid movement, Wesley dropped the crossbow, scooped up his mace, turned and smashed open the wolf's skull.

He released the breath he had been holding and drew in a huge lung-full of air. Then he turned back to the rest of the pack.

They could sense it, sense that he no longer held the crossbow and could not hurt them from a distance. So they charged.

Wesley swung the mace. He could one beneath the jaw, shattering it, and then split open the skull of another wolf with the back swing. 

But he was only one man against who knew how many wolves. 

He backed up against the wall of the crypt so that they could not get round behind him and kept swinging, swinging constantly so that there was always a barrier between him and his assailants. 

But his arm was tiring and the mace was getting heavier and heavier.

And he fumbled the mace.

And he lost his rhythm.

And the wolves that had been waiting for him to make that one fatal mistake sprang.

Halfrek grabbed a wolf by the throat and snapped its neck. She threw the corpse down onto the ground and the other wolves backed slowly away from it.

'Miss me?' she asked, offering Wesley a hand up.

'You've no idea,' Wesley replied, steadying himself and taking a couple of practice swings with his mace.

'You're a wonder, you know that,' Halfrek laughed. 'Will you look at me?'

Wesley stared at her. 'And?'

'It really doesn't freak you out, does it,' Halfrek said, 'my going all…veiny when I use my powers.'

'Hallie, I always knew that you were a vengeance demon,' Wesley explained patiently, 'and I know what demons look like. And I know what friends look like, too.'

'I'm going to fight for you, you know,' Halfrek told him, 'so you better tell whatshername back in L.A. to watch out.'

Wesley laughed. 'I wouldn't have it any other way.'

'Where's Dawn?' Chrissie asked.

'I'm sorry?' Wesley hadn't even noticed that she was there and had missed what she had said in his surprise.

'Look, I hate to break up this moment for you, but where are Dawn and Janice?' Chrissie repeated. 'They need me.'

'Inside,' Wesley told her, gesturing towards the crypt with his free hand.

Chrissie nodded and darted inside, almost colliding with Zauriel as he came out.

'Need a hand?' he asked.

'Wouldn't say no,' Wesley replied. 'How's it going in there?'

'It's still undecided,' Zauriel admitted, 'but with the arrival of Dawn's friend they have a fighting chance.'

'Then let's give them the time they need,' Wesley said, clamping both of his hands around the haft of the mace. 

Halfrek stood on his right, unarmed except for her demon strength. Zauriel flexed his wrist and a flaming sword appeared in his hand. He took up his position on Wesley's left.

The wolves howled.

'Let them come,' Zauriel said.

* * *

Helena's kick took the door off of its hinges.

'What the - '

Helena's father had barely got out of his chair when she came striding into the living-room.

'So, it's you, is it?' he sneered.

'Sam,' he wife warned.

'So you've finally decided to come crawling back with your tail between your legs,' Sam Joslin continued. 'I knew you would. Have you any idea how much trouble you're in, young lady.'

Helena's arms shot out almost too fast to follow and her fingers clamped around her father's throat as she hauled him up off of the ground.

'I'm not the one in trouble,' she told him, her eyes flashing yellow, like a cat's.

'Helena, please,' Helena's mother begged, reaching for her husband.

Helena backhanded her across the room. Her mother's head struck the corner of the coffee-table and she lost consciousness.

'Guess it's just you and me, Dad,' Helena remarked.

'Put. Me. Down,' her father commanded, struggling to force out his words.

'I don't think so,' Helena replied. 'I'm through doing what you want.'

Helena licked her lips and her father's face paled.

'What…what do you want?' he asked.

'That's right,' Helena said. 'That's really good, Dad. Remember who's in charge here. Remember who's got the power.'

'You have,' her father choked.

'How does it feel to be the one who's weak, the one who's powerless, the one at someone else's mercy?' Helena asked. 'Do you think that's how Alicia felt? Do you, Dad?'

'What's Alicia got to do with it?'

'You killed her, Dad,' Helena told him, 'sure as if you'd cut her up yourself. And I'm here to make sure you pay for that.'

* * *

'Timber!'

Clem leant against the telegraph pole and slowly it tilted before tumbling to the ground. The wires that had been attached to it snapped and flapped about in the wind. The wind had started to pick up and it was reaching beneath their clothes like icy fingers. A light drizzle had also begun to fall, but it was barely a distraction at the moment.

'There's an axe in the trunk,' Xander said.

'That and the rest of the arsenal,' Trix said as he opened it up. 'You don't believe in doing things by halves, do you?'

'I've learned it's always better to come prepared,' Xander replied.

Trix hefted the axe and began hacking at the pole, sharpening the end into a point.

'You really think this'll work?' Anya asked.

'We don't have any weapons big enough to do any more than just annoy it,' Xander told her. 'So we improvise.'

'It's all ready for you, Clem,' Trix announced.

The floppy-eared demon grunted as he lifted the sharpened tree trunk off of the ground and carried it across to Xander's car. He set it down on the roof, which bent and buckled, but held.

'Bet that invalidates the warranty,' Xander remarked.

Trix and Anya began tying their improvised weapon in place.

'So who gets to drive this thing?' Anya asked. She checked Trix's knots while he checked hers.

Trix and Clem looked at each other.

'We could draw straws,' Trix suggested.

'I'll do it,' Xander insisted. 'I've got the least to lose.'

'But…' Clem began.

'Is it ready?' Xander asked, cutting him dead.

'It's ready,' Trix replied solemnly.

'Then I'd better get going,' Xander said. 'We don't know how much more damage this thing has been doing while we've been playing at being The A-Team.'

He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared into life.

'Xander…' Anya began.

'What?' he shouted back.

'I…nothing,' she said.

Xander turned away and then drove off into the distance.

* * *

Lydia jabbed at the telephone. She couldn't get a signal. Was the phone line down? All she wanted to do was get a taxi to the airport. Was that too much to ask?

She looked down at her hastily packed bags in the hall.

'Guess we won't be going anywhere tonight,' she said.

She sat down at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. It wasn't that she wanted to leave Hank. She wanted him to come with her. But this whole life here in Sunnydale, she hadn't signed up for any of that. 

It had been simple enough at first, just a fling thing after hours at the office. Sex on the boss's desk just to show they could. Of course, then had come the messy business of falling in love, something neither of them had bargained for. Love complicated things, but there were benefits, so they had taken their first fumbling steps into a relationship. After a while, Hank had suggested moving in together and Lydia hadn't been able to come up with a good enough reason not to. Some time after that, he had proposed. 

They had taken the week off work and Lydia slept in that first Saturday. Hank was not lying next to her when she woke up, he was in the kitchen getting breakfast ready. His side of the bed was not empty, however. On his pillow were a single red rose and a small black box containing a ring and a note. The note read 'Marry me.' It was only after she had said yes that Hank produced the plane tickets to Paris and whisked her off to the airport. That man could be so sure of himself.

But Lydia had said yes and, though the thought of married life gave her butterflies, there was a kind of schoolgirl excitement at the idea of being Mrs Summers. Or there had been. She hadn't bargained on kids. She knew Hank had daughters. He kept their pictures on his desk. But she also knew that he and his wife were separated and that he hadn't visited in a long time. She never expected to even meet them, let alone end up adopting one. The simple fact was that Lydia didn't want to be a mom. At least, not yet. Maybe at some stage she would think about starting a family, but she didn't need that kind of disruption in her life right now. And she definitely did not need a rebellious teenage daughter.

She'd tried explaining that to Hank, but he wouldn't listen. He just blithely assumed she would come around in the end. Well, she wouldn't. Couldn't. She just wasn't cut out for this sort of life so she would have to up sticks and start over some place else. And if Hank wouldn't come with her, well, that was bad news for both of them, but there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

She was pondering these thoughts when a fist slammed through the glass pane in the back door. Lydia jumped, knocking over the chair she was sitting on. An arm snaked in through the shattered window and began search for the key that Lydia could see was still in the lock. She hesitated, part of her wanting to get close enough to snatch the key before the questing fingers could reach it, part of her wanting to stay as far out of harm's way as possible. She took a step forward, but by then it was too late. The door was already unlocked.

An elderly woman stood in the doorway, her cardigan caked in blood. Her thin, bloodless lips were pulled back from her teeth. 

'G-get out of my house,' Lydia said.

'Not until you pay, dearie,' the woman said. 'Not until you all pay for what you've done.'

'I-I don't know what you're talking about,' Lydia insisted, her voice quavering. 'Why don't you come back in the morning and talk to my fiance.'

'I don't think so,' the woman said.

'I'm really going to have to insist,' Lydia said, placing a hand on the door and trying to force it closed.

The old woman jabbed a knitting needle through Lydia's palm.

* * *

Dad lay on the ground, curled into a ball and shielding his face with his arms. There were at least four people attacking him, kicking and beating him while he just lay there and took it. He had tried to fight back, but there were too many of them. And there was such hatred in their eyes. Were they on something? He felt something move within his chest. Had that been a rib snapping? How much more of this could he take? How much more before they got bored and moved on to their next victim?

And what if that next victim was his daughter?

He could feel his own blood running hot within his veins, pounding in his ears. He could taste it one his tongue. And mixed in with the coppery tang was the taste of anger, the scent of rage. It was bubbling over, clouding his judgement, but he was past caring. 

One of his assailants lashed out with his book and, quick as a flash, Dad caught it and tugged on it, upending the attacked. Then Dad was on his feet, planting a foot in the guy's stomach to make sure that he didn't get back up. He turned and struck another of the thugs with a savage uppercut. Dad had boxed at school and he still knew his stuff. That guy was soon on the floor with his friend and the others followed in quick succession as Dad battered them with blows fuelled by the rage threatening to burst open his chest.

Thunder rumbled in the sky overhead.

Dad looked at the people lying in the street and moaning. He wiped the sweat and blood from his face with the sleeve of his jacket. Then he went to his overturned car and removed the tyre-iron. 

He was going to make sure these kids never hurt anyone ever again.

* * *

'Chrissie, over here,' Janice called as our friend came hurtling into the crypt.

'What's going on in here?' she asked as she came to stand beside us. 'Who's the hunk with the cheekbones you could slice cheese on?'

'Now is not the time, Chrissie,' I protested. 'In case you've forgotten, we have a town to save.'

'So what's the plan?' Chrissie asked, all business again.

'We help people see the world as Dawn sees it,' Janice explained.

'Can we do that?' Chrissie asked. 'I don't want to sound negative, but every time we try and do really big magic, well, something bad tends to happen.'

'We can do it,' Janice said, fingering the pentacle around her neck. 'We just have to have faith.'

'The barriers are already weakening,' I said encouragingly. 'You shouldn't even be able to see Spike over there, what with him being dead and all. But you can so how hard can it be to make everyone else see him too?'

'Take my hand, Chrissie,' Janice said.

'Isn't that usually my line?' Chrissie asked with forced humour as she intertwined her fingers with Janice's.

I took hold of Janice's other hand.

'Well, I guess this is it,' I said, before taking Chrissie's hand in mine, completing the circuit.

There was a rush of energy through my body. It started at my feet and I threw back my head and opened my mouth as the energy shot upwards and escaped into the air. And suddenly I was above myself, looking down at the three of us holding hands and staring at the sky with sightless eyes.

* * *

'Helena, stop!' Drew shouted as he bounded into the room.

'Stay out of this,' Helena retorted. 'This is between me and him.'

'Helena, please, listen to me,' Drew persisted. 'This isn't you talking?'

'Of course it's me,' Helena replied. 'Have you any idea the things that this man did to me? Have you? He was supposed to be my father? He was supposed to love and protect me. Instead…You don't know what it's like. You can never know. He deserves whatever's coming to him.'

'I know,' said another voice. 

The ghost of Alicia Joslin stepped through the wall and into the living-room. 

'Now I've seen it all,' Drew muttered to himself, 'and I haven't got my camera with me. Typical.'

'I know what he's like, 'Len,' Alicia continued. 'I know what he's capable of.'

'Then you know why I have to do this,' Helena replied.

'Do I think he deserves to die?' Alicia said. 'Yes, ten times over.'

'What?' Drew exclaimed.

'But do I think you should kill him?' Alicia continued. 'No. No, I don't. The Helena I knew wasn't a killer. Don't let him turn you into one.'

'Well maybe you don't know me at all,' Helena snarled.

''Len, I…' Alicia began.

'Put him down, Helena,' Ruth commanded.

'No,' Helena replied.

'So what now?' Ruth asked, moving to stand beside Helena's father. 'Are you going to lecture me on how I can't possibly know what you're going through. Been there, done that. I'm with her over there. Scum like him deserve all they get. But this isn't about him, Helena, it's about you. He's a monster, what's your excuse?'

'Maybe I'm a monster too?' Helena replied. She turned to face Ruth, her yellow eyes boring into her as she displayed a mouth full of sharp, pointy teeth.

Drew took a step back, but Ruth forced herself to remain in place.

'You're not a monster, Helena,' she said.

'Then what am I?' Helena asked, her voice plaintive. 'What has he turned me into?'

'He hasn't turned you into anything, Helena,' Ruth insisted. 'He can't, not if you don't let him. Listen to yourself for a minute. You're saying that because he abused you, you can't be held responsible for your actions. That you get to act like a monster just because he was one too. But it doesn't work like that, Helena. You can break the cycle of violence and hatred, if you really want to. You're your own person. What I think or Drew thinks or your dad thinks, none of that matters in the end. You have to make your own choices in this world and you're defined as a person by the choices you make. So the question you should be asking isn't whether I think you're a monster. It's whether you think you're one.'

* * *

'I raised you up above the dreary mortal world,' Drusilla protested.

'You took away my bloody soul,' Spike shot back. 'Once I was a man who wanted to make things. You turned me into something that only wanted to tear them apart.'

'But we were happy together,' Drusilla said. 'You can't tell me we weren't happy.'

'Oh, we enjoyed ourselves, all right,' Spike agreed. 'We had a whale of a time revelling in other people's suffering and misery because that's the kind of people we were. And we were proud of what we did. Do you remember how Angelus and I used to compete, see who could come up with the most creative slaughter?'

'I remember,' Drusilla purred. 'And I remember how you were always so much more dynamic, more inventive.'

'The last vestiges of William, I suspect,' Spike said bitterly. 'My poetry expressing itself the only way a vampire knows how.'

'I've missed you, Spike,' Drusilla said. 'Life's not the same without your spark to light the pyre.'

'And doesn't that just a kick in the teeth to the gods of irony,' Spike said. 'You tear yourself apart over me and my death, but you haven't shed a single tear in a hundred years for all the deaths we caused. Did it never occur to you that each and every one of our victims might have had somebody somewhere that loved them and missed them and felt as if they'd had their heart torn out just because we needed to be entertained?'

'Pfah,' Drusilla spat. 'Cattle don't count.'

'But, Dru…'

Spike was cut of by the fork of lighting that smashed through the roof of the crypt and left a smoking hole between the two vampires.

'Light, bright light,' Drusilla sang. 'The light of truth, burning away the lies. We see it all now. We see everything.'

She was pointing and Spike turned to see what she was pointing at. It was the three of us.

'You thought to trick us,' Drusilla said. 'Naughty Spike. We shall have to punish you later. You'd like that, wouldn't you? For now, we must put a stop to the nasty witches and their nasty magic.'

She and Willow raised their arms into the air and began to chant.

* * *

'I think that's the last of them,' Zauriel announced as he set another wolf's fur alight.

'About time too,' Wesley panted, doubling over and retching.

'Couldn't you come up with a less flashy way to kill them?' Halfrek scolded Zauriel. 'Fricasseed wolf stinks.'

'I think that's the least of our problems,' Wesley remarked, hands on his knees. 'Look!'

Across the cemetery, the ground was moving. Hands burst from beneath the ground, and bodies began hauling themselves out of graves. Then the zombies began to shuffle down the hill towards them.

'Once more unto the breach,' Wesley remarked.

'But, Wes,' Halfrek began, 'there are so many of them.'

'Brave heart, Halfrek,' Wesley said. 'I'm sure things aren't as bad as they look.'

'I fear that the demon may be right,' Zauriel said. 'We are sorely outnumbered. I do not see how we can prevail.'

'Then it's a good thing this isn't the fight that matters,' Wesley snapped. 'I know we're going to die. Do you really think I hadn't worked that out? I just hope and pray we can last long enough to give Dawn the time she needs.' He turned to Halfrek. 'Hallie, you can teleport. Get out of here while you still can.'

'And leave you to face this lot on your own?' Halfrek asked. 'Not a chance.'

'There's no sense in us both dying,' Wesley protested.

'I don't know,' Halfrek told him with a smile. 'If we've got to go, I'd rather we went together. I think it's kind of romantic.'

'I'll never understand your sort,' Wesley said resignedly.

'What, demons?' Halfrek asked.

'No,' Wesley replied. 'Women.'

* * *

'I…I don't want to be a monster,' Helena said.

She opened her hand and her father fell to the ground, clutching his throat.

Helena still had her arm stretched out in from of her, so Ruth took hold of it and gently lowered it to her side.

'Then don't be,' she said. 'Be whatever you want to be and I'll be with you every step of the way.'

'Thank you,' Helena said softly and the two girls embraced.

Drew bent down to speak to Mr Joslin.

'A word to the not terribly wise,' he began, 'mention any of what happened tonight to anyone and I personally guarantee that ghost-girl over there will be back to haunt you every night for the rest of your life. You get me?'

Sam Joslin nodded, his throat still too sore for him to try and speak.

Drew stood back up.

'Let's get out of here,' he said.

'Good idea,' a woman said. 'You're needed.'

A tall blonde woman floated into the room.

'What is this,' Drew protested, 'a spooks convention.'

'You've no idea,' the ghost told him. 'I'm Tara Maclay. You must be Drew.'

Drew's brain worked furiously. All sorts of facts and figures were filed away up there and he was cross-referencing as fast as he could.

'Tara? Dawn's friend, right? The one that…well I guess you wouldn't want to talk about it much.'

Tara smiled.

'I find trying to avoid the issue just leads to more embarrassment all round,' she told him, 'but we'll have to chat another time. Dawn's in trouble.'

'Where?' Drew asked.

* * *

I've never felt so alone. I was surrounded by people. More people than I could count. More people than I could even imagine. But there wasn't a single face amongst them that I recognised. I was looking at the faces of the dead, all of the people that had died in, well, ever, from the very first death right through to whatever had happened in the space of the last few seconds. Death was no discriminator and I could see people of all races and colours, all ages, from newborns to those ravaged by time. Some bodies were whole and well and showed no outward sign of their method of passing, but many did display the horrors of their death and I was struck by just how many different ways there were to die. 

Was there anything we could do, any action we could take, where we wouldn't potentially be dead at the end of it? Cross the street, you might get hit by a car. Mow the lawn, you might run over the flex and electrocute yourself. If you were careless in the kitchen you might cause a fire. And if you just went to sleep you might never wake up. Death was with us every second of every day, each breath tainted with the thought that it might be the last, but all the sweeter because of it. And surrounded by all that death, hemmed in and crushed by it, I was struck by just how lucky I was to be alive. Even if this crazy plan failed, I still had a few minutes more of life to savour and that was the most precious commodity in the world.

And while I was having all of these profound thoughts, it was slowly sinking in that they were all staring at me. I cleared my throat. Then wondered how I could do that seeing as my physical body was somewhere down below me. Then I realised that I was changing the subject so that I didn't have to talk to these people.

Time to step up to the plate, Dawn.

'Um, I guess you're all wondering why I've called you all here tonight,' I began.

'Actually, Dawn, we already know why we're here.'

I turned to face the speaker and did a double-take. It was Justin, the senior-slash-vampire I'd gone out with the previous year. It was a date that had ended badly for both of us, though probably worse for him since I put a stake through his heart.

'That wasn't me,' Justin said.

'What? Like since when did ghosts become mind-readers?' I protested defensively.

'No mind-tricks,' Justin assured me, 'but it was pretty obvious. That thing you staked, it wasn't me, so there are no hard feelings from this direction.'

'Er, right. Sure,' I said hurriedly. 'So, if everyone knows why they're here, what are they hanging around for?'

'They're waiting for you to give the word,' Justin explained.

'Oh, well in that case,' I announced, 'the word is go.'

Immediately, the ghosts began to disperse. Justin hung back.

'You know, I reckon I know what my demon-self saw in you,' he said to me. 'See you around, Dawn.'

Oh my god? Was I being hit on by a ghost? Probably best not to think about it.

* * *

Dad held the tyre-iron so tight it was gouging grooves in the palms of his hands. He couldn't even feel it. All he could focus on was the head of one of the men who had attacked him and how he was about to split open that same head like a melon.

He raised the tyre-iron.

'Hank Summers, what do you think you're doing?'

Dad paused in mid-swing.

'Joyce?' he asked.

'Who else?' she replied, stepping over the bodies as she walked towards him.

The tyre-iron fell from Dad's grip and clattered on the ground. He barely noticed.

'I…what are you doing here?' he asked.

'Making sure you don't do something stupid,' Mom told him.

'But you're dead?'

'That's never stopped you talking to me before,' Mom said. 'Late at night, when you're troubled. And you always knew I was listening, didn't you, deep down.'

'I hoped, but I never dreamed…'

'Never dreamed I might actually be there the whole time? Well here I am, just when you need me most.'

'What's gotten into me?' Dad asked, staring at the bodies around him.

'The same thing that's got into everybody else,' Mom explained, 'but don't worry about it. Everything's going to be fine. Dawn's got it all under control.'

'Dawn has? What's Dawn got to do with any of this?'

'Now, stop worrying, Hank,' Mom said. 'That daughter of ours is more capable than either of us give her credit for.'

'But…but I should be there, helping her,' Dad protested.

'You can't be everywhere,' Mom replied. 'Even if you could, this is one fight you can't help her with.'

'Have you any idea how much that scares me?'

'Have you any idea how much that scares _me_? And I'm dead.'

Dad looked away.

'What is it, Hank?' Mom asked him.

'I never got the chance to say goodbye,' he said. 'Why didn't you call me? You know I'd have dropped everything to be there for you.'

'That's why I didn't say anything,' Mom said. 'I didn't want anyone to worry.'

'Didn't want us to worry,' Dad repeated. 'You're a marvel, you know that?'

'I remember a time when you used to tell me that a lot.'

'Do you miss those days?' Dad asked her. 'We were a happy family, for a while.'

'It couldn't last,' mom said. 'Some things just aren't meant to be no matter how hard you try and make them work.'

'But we could have tried harder. I keep thinking that maybe if we'd done things a little differently.'

'There's no point crying over spilled milk, as my mom used to say,' Mom told him. 'We're not the same people we were back then. I'm dead for a start.'

'Don't joke,' Dad said. 'It's not funny.'

'No, no it's not,' Mom agreed. 'But my point is that you need to move on with your life. You've already started to, with Lydia.'

'By now Lydia will be on a plane back to Europe,' Dad said. 'We had a fight. I…I handled it badly.'

'You were worried about, Dawn,' Mom consoled him.

'That's hardly an excuse for not caring about my fiancee,' Dad insisted. 'Still, I don't suppose it matters anymore.'

'I don't know, Hank,' Mom remarked with a trace of a smile, 'she may surprise you.' 

Then her face darkened.

'What is it? Joyce, what's wrong?'

'Go home, Hank,' Mom ordered him. 'Hurry. Before it's too late.'

* * *

The ghosts spread across town, seeking out their loved ones and explaining to them what many of us already knew in our hearts. The dead are always with us. Whether you believe in ghosts or just in memories, those we love don't leave us when they die, not completely. We always carry a little something of them around inside of us. 

That was what the banshee, the gestalt, had exploited. Just as we carry around the memory of those we have loved, so we carry the pain and the grief and the resentment at their deaths. It's all too easy to put death and misery in the same sentence.

What the ghosts set out to show people was that there is more to it than that. The people we love aren't defined by their final moments, they're defined by the way they lived. And if that's how we choose to remember them then where is the misery?

When I think of Buffy, should I remember cradling her in my arms, watching the last of her life trickling away? When I think of Mom, should I remember the cold naked body lying in the morgue? I'd be lying if I said that those images aren't going to stay with me, but there's so much more to them than that. I remember the first time Buffy took me clothes shopping with her and I drove her out of her mind by insisting on trying on absolutely everything. I remember Mom trying to teach me to make cookies and then the pair of us sitting at the table resolutely sampling my creations, both praying that I would never, ever try this again. I remember Mom's 'tickle-torture' and the way she called me her little pumpkin belly. And I remember the night after someone broke into our house and how, when I insisted on sleeping downstairs because I couldn't face my room, Buffy came held my hand and I knew I would never be alone.

And when I think of Mom and Buffy, I don't want to cry or to lash out at things because of the cruel way in which they died. I want to smile and to laugh and to sing and to dance and to celebrate the way they lived. And that was the message we had asked the ghosts to send.

* * *

The rat must have been able to hear him coming by now, but it still had not reacted, preferring instead to keep ploughing its inexorable path towards the centre of town. Xander was not concerned. Whether the rat was moving towards him or away, all he needed was one clear shot.

He shifted up a gear and heard the car begin to complain as he pushed it harder and harder.

'Going to ramming speed, captain,' he muttered under his breath.

'This is so cool!'

The voice made Xander jump and he banged his head against the roof.

'Jesse?' he said, turning to face the guy that had just materialised in the passenger seat. 'What are you doing here?'

'Oh, nothing much,' Jesse confessed. 'I got drawn here with all the others, but once I arrived I didn't really have anything to do so I figured I might as well check up on my buddy Xander. By the way, don't let me interrupt what you're doing. Looks important.'

'Jesse, I…man, I don't know what to say. There's so much stuff, I don't even know where to begin.'

'Take your time,' Jesse replied. 'I've got an eternity.'

'But that's just it,' Xander said. 'I haven't. I'm kinda on a suicide mission here.'

'Bummer,' Jesse said. 'Still, hope it works out for you. Have you made your peace with God or whoever?'

'I'm not sure if I believe in that stuff anymore,' Xander admitted, 'nit after all I've been through. Jesse, I'm so sorry. I mean, I'm the one that killed you.'

'I was already dead,' Jesse reassured him. 'Seven years fighting vampires and you still have problems with that. Still the same old Xander, I guess.'

'So, what's it like,' Xander asked, 'being dead I mean?'

'Well, I'd sure rather be alive,' Jesse replied. 'To get killed during puberty, that sucks, man. To go through all that and never get to find out where you were headed. I could have been an astronaut or a pop star or something. Guess we'll never know, huh?'

'I'm sorry,' Xander said again.

'Will you quit apologising,' Jesse said. 'It's not your fault I ended up snack food for some creature of the night. But…'

'But what?'

'Oh, it's nothing.'

'What?' Xander repeated. 'Come on, Jesse, you can't not tell me.'

'You're not going to like it.' Xander glared at him. 'Okay, okay, I'll spill. I was just thinking about you and about your life.'

'Yeah, because that's been going so great lately.'

'Don't knock it,' Jesse told him. 'There are a whole lot of people worse of than you are. And you have so much going for you. You've got a great job for one, not to mention a hot girl who loves you.'

'Used to love me,' Xander corrected.

'Xander, I know you were never the sharpest tool in the box, but I never knew you were so dense.'

'What interest is it of yours how I live my life anyway?' Xander demanded.

'I thought I was your friend, Xander,' Jesse said. 'And as a friend, I'm begging you not to throw your life away, not if there's an alternative. I didn't have that option. You still do.'

'Jesse, I…' Xander began, but his friend had already faded away.

The rat roared.

It had finally noticed the vehicle racing towards it and had decided to meet the charge head on, bounding down the road towards Xander.

'That's right, big boy,' Xander murmured, 'come and get it.'

Saliva flew from the rat's mouth as its jaws snapped on empty air. It's paused crashed down upon the tarmac, causing the ground to shake.

Xander looked it straight in the eye.

'Guess you've never played chicken before, huh?' he said.

Then he opened the door and threw himself out of the car. The car continued onwards, barely slowing, and the sharpened tree trunk tied to the roof impaled the underside of the rat. The giant rodent screamed, and ear-splitting wail of pain, then fell to the ground, crushing the car beneath it. It's claws scrabbled frantically at the road for a moment, but then it was all over and the rat lay still.

* * *

'Too…many…of them,' Wesley gasped, too tired to swing his mace anymore.

'We did all we could,' Halfrek sighed, collapsing next to him. 'Do you think they'll eat our brains.'

'That's actually a myth,' Wesley began, but Halfrek shushed him.

'I was joking, honey. Figured the situation could do with some humour.'

'Yes, I suppose it could,' Wesley mused.

'One last kiss for old time's sake?' Halfrek inquired.

'I thought you'd never ask,' Wesley said, pulling her close.

They locked lips, drinking of each other as if it were the last draught on the planet. Then Wesley's eyes widened and he stepped away.

'What is it?' Halfrek asked. 'It wasn't that bad.'

'Look,' Wesley said. 'The zombies aren't attacking us.'

'But I thought…'

'They're ignoring us and going straight into the crypt,' Wesley continued. 'They're going after Dawn!'

'Gangway!' Drew shouted.

Halfrek shoved Wesley to one side as a motorbike laden with three teenagers shot passed them and into the crypt.'

Halfrek looked down at Wesley. He was lying on his back in the grass. And he was laughing.

'I don't get the joke,' she said.

'Oh, no joke,' Wesley assured her. 'I was just thinking that maybe we've still got a chance after all.'

* * *

I could see the zombies come pouring into the crypt like maple syrup spilled on the floor. Unfortunately, from my vantage point high above events, I could do nothing but watch. Chrissie, Janice and I were locked in place for the duration of the spell and, therefore, vulnerable.

Spike had obviously realised this too because he turned away from Drusilla and tried to tackle the zombies. There was one minor problem, though. As a ghost, he was intangible.

'Bloody hell,' he cursed. 'What in blazes were you thinking, little bit? I'm not good to anybody like this.'

I had a nasty feeling that he was about to be proved right. Naturally, this was the point at which the reinforcements arrived. 

Growling deep in her throat, Helena leaped right into the midst of the fray, tearing the zombies apart with her bare hands. They tried to fight her off, but she was like a wild animal and I doubted she would have noticed their blows even without her healing factor.

Drew picked up the sword I had dropped. It seemed that plenty of practice stage-fighting was about to pay off as he dived in after Helena like a junior Errol Flynn.

'No!' Willow and Drusilla screamed. 'It can't end like this!'

'Why not?' Spike demanded. 'What's so special about you?'

'But we've been wronged,' the banshee protested. 'We're entitled to due payment for our loss, for our pain. That's only fair and just.'

'And this is your justice, is it?' Drew asked. 'Inflicting the same pain and misery on other people. If it was so wrong when it was done to you then why is it suddenly okay now? Aren't you guilty of the same crimes or are you somehow a cut above the rest of us?'

'I know what it's like to lose someone you really love,' Chrissie said. 'And I know about feeling powerless to stop it. And yes, I've let it colour my behaviour towards other people. It took me a long time to realise how wrong that was. Part of me is still learning. I owe it to…to that person I loved to go out and live my life, not to live in shadow and pain and grief for the rest of it. Think about why you're doing this. You feel that the deaths of the people you cared about were unjust. Fine. I'm not going to argue with you. But would they want this. If they were such good people, why aren't you trying to continue their good works rather than just spreading around your misery for everyone else to feel?'

'It's easier to blame someone else,' Helena continued. 'They've hurt you, hurt you deeper than you can ever explain to anyone else. Sometimes you feel that the pain is all you've got, all that defines who you are. But it isn't. We're all individuals. We all have the capacity to choose, to shape our own destinies. You can blame it one someone else, say that they made you do it, but at the end of the day, we both know that that isn't true, don't we. You can choose to act like a monster or you can choose to be better than that, stronger.'

'How we act ourselves impacts on other people whether we like it or not,' Janice said. 'We're reflected in those around us. That's why the dead still have such a big impact, because they live on inside of the people they were close to. We have a responsibility in the way we shape the world around us. You've chosen to inflict your rage and pain on innocent people and it's being reflected right back at you, escalating the circle further and further. But imagine what would happen if you chose to share love and joy instead. Imagine that reflected back off of the people around you. Isn't that a better world? If everything you do returns to you threefold, don't you want to make everything you do worthwhile? All of this, well, what's the point really. What do you hope to gain by encouraging suffering except more suffering. You could do so much more with your powers, so much good, if you just chose to do so.'

'You know how we could end all wars?' I asked. 'You know how we could put an end to hunger and to poverty? It's a simple little thing really. All it would take is for everyone to be nice to one another. No fighting, no arguing, more co-operation, more sharing, a little helping hand when you're in trouble, that sort of thing. Never gonna happen, of course, but it's a dream I have. You know, before she died, Buffy told me something, she explained what it meant to be a Slayer. She said it's not about the slaying, it's about the saving. Do you see where she was coming from, because it took me a long time to get my head round it? Killing should be a last resort. Violence should be a last resort. Sometimes it's necessary, but it can never be a good thing. What is a good thing is saving lives and saving souls. I don't want to have to kill you. If you force me to I will. Weigh up your lives against the entire population of Sunnydale and it's a bit of a no-brainer. But I'd much rather not have to destroy you because I think you have a shot at redemption. What do you say?'

'You made me what I am, Dru,' Spike said, 'but that doesn't excuse what I've done. I revelled in being a vampire, took pride in it. It's something to be ashamed of. And it took the Slayer and her sister to show me that. I thought I had a shot at redemption in this life, went as far as to find me a bloody soul, but it wasn't to be. I was still too twisted up inside to sort out right from wrong. I didn't give Buffy a choice. I accept that. I don't hold her responsible for my death. I brought it on myself.'

'No,' Drusilla protested.

'Oh get a grip, Dru,' Spike retorted. 'Evil, remember, Buffy gave me a shed-load of chances to reform and I just kept throwing them back in her face. Everything's so much clearer now. You made me what I am, but I forgive you, love. Come with me. Take responsibility for what you've done and we can start over. Please, pet, we both want this.'

Drusilla stared at his outstretched hand and spat at it.

'Little Spikey thinks he knows the clockwork ticking of heaven, but he doesn't, does he, Miss Edith, and he'll never lead us down that bramble path. Never, never, never.'

Drusilla turned and ran to the back of the crypt where she was swallowed up by the shadow.

'Dru, wait,' Spike shouted. He ran after her and vanished as well.

Willow stood in the centre of the room, rubbing her hands together nervously.

'And what about me?' she asked Tara. 'Am I responsible for making you what you are?'

'Of course you are, silly,' Tara said, stepping forward and taking Willow's hands in hers, 'and that's something to be very proud of. She leaned over the smaller girl and they rubbed noses. 'You're a really special person, Will. Now, are you ready to come and join me?'

'You mean I can?' Willow asked. 'I thought…well, after what I did…I thought maybe I'd be stuck in limbo forever.'

'Don't be silly,' Tara told her. 'Everything's about choices. You're only stuck for as long as you think you deserve, as long as you want to keep punishing yourself.'

'Well, then maybe I shouldn't go,' Willow insisted, her words coming out in a rush. 'I mean, I've done some really bad things and now I've gone and made them worse and I think I should probably be punished for a really long time. If not longer.'

'Willow, I forgive you,' Tara said, 'but in the end you still have to forgive yourself. But maybe, if you come with me, I can help you with that.'

'You mean it?' Willow asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

'I mean it,' Tara confirmed.

I was in my own body once more and, like Chrissie and Janice, was working the kinks out of my stiff limbs. 

'Did it work?' Chrissie asked.

'Listen,' Tara said.

'I don't hear anything,' Drew replied.

'Exactly,' Tara said. 'Peace and quiet. Just the way it should be.'

'In that case,' Ruth said as she helped Helena up, 'we'd best be getting back. We're already well late for curfew.'

'Somehow,' I said, 'I doubt anyone will have noticed.'

Tara looked at Helena and then turned to Ruth.

'Take care of her,' she said.

'I intend to,' Ruth replied.

Then Tara and Willow faded from sight.

I looked around the room. Ruth stood by the entrance, leading a still dazed Helena by the hand. Drew stood off to one side, taking practice swings with the sword. He looked to be quite good, but obviously not good enough judging by the nasty bruise on his temple. Chrissie was leaning against a wall, trying to appear nonchalant, but the dark circles beneath her eyes told a different story. Janice was sitting cross-legged on the floor, meditating to recover her lost strength.

'I just wanted to say thanks,' I said. 'I couldn't have done this without you guys.'

'Too right,' Chrissie responded.

'Dawn, we're your friends,' Drew said. 'Where else would we be?'

* * *

And now we reach the point in the tale where I'm supposed to tell you that things went back to normal. No dice. Firstly, I've never been too sure on what constitutes normal for Sunnydale anyway, and secondly, things weren't going to be normal again for a very long time.

The Sunnydale authorities, in their usual remarkable way, had managed to come up with a pseudoscientific explanation for the previous night's events. Apparently, the earth tremors we had all felt had release pockets of naturally occurring hallucinogenic gas beneath Sunnydale and it was this gas that had triggered the sudden outbreak of violent behaviour. The authorities then went on to say that the danger had passed and that there were no lasting side effects from exposure to the gas. Always good to know.

But that still left the memories. Sketchy memories usually, but enough to remind people that they had done something terrible. I doubt many people slept well for quite a while.

Lydia turned out to be okay. She had barricaded herself inside the cupboard under the stairs and it had taken a lot of gentle persuasion by Dad to get her to come out. And I do mean a lot. He was still at it when I returned from the cemetery so I decided to creep upstairs and save the explanations for the following morning. Strangely enough, he's never actually asked me about it. Somehow that bothers me more than an interrogation would.

Lydia still claims to want to leave, but as yet she has yet to make good on her promise. As a favour to Dad, I am trying to be a bit friendlier towards her. Not easy.

And then came the day of Xander's leaving (postponed due to lack of car). The gang turned up in force to give him a decent send-off. 

Xander took me to one side.

'There's something that's been bothering me,' he said to me. 'You don't think I'm running away, do you. Because I'm not. If that is what you think.'

I laughed.

'I don't think you're running away,' I said. 'I think it's way past time you went and got a life.'

'Hey!' he protested, but he was laughing too.

'Xander Harris, you weren't thinking about leaving without me, were you?'

Anya was striding down the street towards us. Clem was trailing behind carrying her luggage.

'Anya,' Xander fumbled, 'I, um, I didn't think you were coming.'

'Somebody remind me what I see in him.'

'You've coloured your hair,' I pointed out.

'I fancied a change,' Anya explained. 'I don't want anyone thinking for a minute this has anything to do with Xander.'

'Of course not,' I agreed. My keeping a straight face was made all the more difficult by the sound of Janice and Chrissie giggling behind me.

'So who's going to be in charge of the Magic Box now?' Wesley asked.

'That would be telling,' Anya replied, with an enigmatic smile, 'but I think you'll like the new management.'

And with that they were off, riding off into the sunset just the way it should always have been.

'And what about you?' I asked Trix. 'Will you be leaving too, now?'

Trix looked at Drew.

'I think I'll stick around for a while,' Trix said. 'See how long my luck lasts.'

So there you have it. Drew and Chrissie are still dating and Chrissie looks happier than I remember seeing her in, like, ever. Janice has been initiated as a member of the witches' coven. She's made some good friends there and occasionally talks me into helping her babysit Caitlin for Jerry and Ellie. Clem has had to move back into his old place, since there's not a lot left of Spike's crypt. We've all promised to keep a look out for a better home for him. Wesley is still sticking around. There are still unanswered questions about Helena so his assignment is still ongoing. Halfrek is sticking around to keep an eye on Wesley.

And then there's Helena herself. Part of me says I should be devoting more time to trying to figure out what's up with her, but, temporarily at any rate, that's on hold. For the moment, I just want to enjoy spending some time amongst friends and revel in what it is simply to be alive.

But there's one member of our gang I haven't talked about. The angel Zauriel. After the battle at the crypt, he disappeared. Five whole weeks passed before I saw him again. And then, one night, I heard a tapping on my window and there he was. I had to help him clamber inside. He had been badly beaten. There were cuts and bruise across his torso and what looked like burn marks too. His wings had been shredded and I was amazed that he could still fly.

'What the hell happened?' I asked. 'Who did this to you?'

He sat down on the corner of my bed and looked me in the eye.

'They have declared war in heaven,' he replied.

****

The End

Afterword

One of the most common things I'm asked, by friends who know I write, is where do I get my inspiration from. In the case of Finale and Prelude, it was a discussion with my Dad of all people. At the time of writing, I'm still none the wiser if Sarah Michelle Gellar is staying or going at the end of season seven and this begs the question: can the show survive without her? Yes, I argued. The show is bigger than any one character. In fact, I continued to argue, you could write out all of the original characters and the show would still work.

It's true what they say, things are a lot easier said than done. But, having said it, I felt compelled to try and prove my point and so began a twenty-two part series that would write out Buffy, Willow and Xander as well as setting up a way forward for future stories. Did I succeed? Well, I think that's more for you to say than I, don't you think?


End file.
